


Fate: Core

by RachelTheHero



Category: Fate (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Cyberpunk, Post-Apocalypse, tabletop novelized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelTheHero/pseuds/RachelTheHero
Summary: A gun slinging socialite walks into the last Denny's still in existence (Cyber Denny's) for her morning cup of coffee. The aristocrat is then accosted by a man with the head of a bear. This strange creature dressed in a lab coat attempts to force her, and the other patrons to sign a mysterious contract. An intoxicated prostitute gives in to his demands, and suddenly this ragtag group of an heiress, a thief, a pyromaniac, an escort, a mechanic, and a blue giant, are chased out of the last human stronghold against the infection by the local militia. Their exile will take them across the wasteland, forcing them to square up against stronger, and stranger foes than they may be able to understand. Some of these odd folks have a history - but are they willing to share that information, or will their secrecy prove a threat to their new found companions? Find out now on Fate: Core...
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Fate: The Marvelous Journey of a Bunch of Idiots





	1. Prologue: Session 1: The Last Cyber Denny's

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the novelization of me and my friend's "DnD" campaign. It's supposed to be a dark comedy, since we're all pretty big gallows humor. I hope this chaos amuses someone, because it sure as hell amuses me.

No one left in the world would bother to argue against the claim, ‘First City is a god damn, run down dump.’ It would be akin to trying to convince someone that blood isn’t red. It isn’t a defensible claim - why bother fighting such an obvious truth? Sadly, First was one of the last habitable zones in the region - the largest even, protected on all sides by massive walls of concrete and barbed wire. The more optimistic residence would argue the city wasn’t all that bad. There was a functioning school system, the water and electricity worked on most days, and there was a semi-functional government. It was martial law most of the time, but that was frankly more structure than the neighboring areas had. The city also boasted one of the last surviving cultural relics of the old world. Supposedly they were once scattered across a long dead country; a refuge for the starved or frightened. Yes, First City held in its clutches, on the corner of Bartlett and Merle, the last Denny’s in existence. Although, technically it was a ‘Cyber Denny’s’ due to the strange neon lighting that hadn’t been completely riddled with bullet holes of the building. Other than that, it was your average liminal space diner.

Military aside, First was a very safe place compared to conditions on the outside - on account of the fact that pretty much everyone owned a firearm, a true American Post-Apocalyptic staple, everyone including the young lady who rolled up to Cyber Denny’s on an oddly clean motorcycle. She sat on her bike for a moment, taking in the sunrise. She nodded to herself, and guessed that it must have been around five in the morning, based on the sky, and the bitter cut of wind which caused her to duck her head further into the high collar of her blue frock coat, again, impossibly clean for the world around her. The girl was in a pleasant mood on account of the fact that she hadn’t seen anything too weird so far that day - a rare occurrence for her.

She had counted her blessings far too soon. She turned her head to look into the diner at the exact moment a creature in a front booth next to the door tossed a coffee mug into his abyss like jaws, and crunched down on it repeatedly. She inwardly scolded herself.  _ It isn’t right to mock another for their looks. We all have our deformities these days... _ She stole a glance down at the metal fist gripping her bike throttle, then she looked back up, and realized that ‘deformity,’ was not an apt phrase to describe the man in the window. Actually ‘man,’ was not a word that was entirely applicable either. As she watched the ceramic shatter further and further in the gaping maw - she realized she indeed was staring at the jaws of a beast - the figure had the physique of an impossibly large man, but the head of a bear. She blinked, wondering if lack of sleep was catching up with her again, then let out a heavy sigh. She knew it would not be the strangest thing she would see that day. It only ever got weirder, at the end of the world.

She smiled to herself, in a painfully sad way. “Good Morning, First City!” She mumbled with a slight hiss to no one in particular. It was unlikely anyone could hear her without straining their ears anyway. She stepped off her bike, and steeled her expression as she walked through the door in a surprisingly successful effort to pretend she hadn’t seen a thing, keeping her head down in her coat collar. It wasn’t an uncommon skill for the citizens of First to have. She made her way to a counter stool, also pretending she wasn’t listening to this strange bear-headed man complaining endlessly to a frazzled twenty-something. The bewilderment was understandable - this ‘man’ had just eaten a cup, and this poor kid was stuck in a booth across from him. The girl’s eyes narrowed as she took a seat at the bar. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just a suspicious bear-man shaped hole in the restaurant wall; that was just another thing she was ignoring. No one had greeted her. No, “Good morning, General.” Or, “Hello Miss Grant!” She was quite popular with the staff here, because she always tipped well, even if coffee was the only thing she ever ordered.

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice coarser than hers, and far too many octaves deeper called.

God she was so tired. She just wanted coffee. Where was the staff? Where was that old lady waitress who always doted on her?  _ What was her name again? Bonnie? I should figure that out before I see her, it would be rude if I called her the wrong - _

“Miss!” The voice was just short of growling at her.

She grimaced, but kept her tone level, straining her throat with each word. “Good day to you.” She greeted with all the politeness she could muster. The girl supposed she had some time to kill before the staff hopefully appeared and gave her the bitter nectar of the god’s she craved in the depths of her soul.

“Could you come over here, Miss?” The shaking man across from the source of the gravelly voice asked. “ _ Please.” _ He squeaked out at the end.

“Thank you, Terrence.” The Bear-Man said in a slightly lower voice, a poor attempt at a whisper.

“My name is Alex.” He murmured.

“Whatever you say, Samuel.”

She offered a clearing of her throat as she spun her barstool around to face the odd pair. “I would rather stay seated, if that’s alright.” She took a quick scan of the two. The bear headed man wore a some kind of lab coat over a graphic t-shirt with words too faded to read. She was most perplexed by his shoes. They were far too nice for someone cowering in a Denny’s at 5 am while sober. The young man, with the ever changing name looked at like a college student who showed up to the wrong final exam, and took it anyway. Confused and scared.

The Bear-Man waved a hand at her. “Fine, fine.” He leaned forward over the table. She supposed he was trying to get closer to her instead. “Did you see my fliers!?” He asked, the world around him trembling from his volume.

“Flier?” She shook her head. “No, sir. I’m just here for breakfast.” She jumped a little as the Bear-Man slammed into the table snout first, her hand reflexively going to her chest, though she settled herself quickly.

He let out a roar of frustration, partially muffled by the table. “We spent so long making them!” He lamented, “Why are people ignoring them?”

The poor man, who the young woman could only assume was some kind of intern, was shaking like a wet chihuahua. “I-I mean it’s okay if you aren’t- if you aren’t here for that -”

“No! No!” The beast banged on the table like a child throwing a tantrum. “I need people for my meeting, Doug! Why are they being ignored?!” The frightened man tries to cry out some kind of apology, cowering away further into the booth seat like it could save him somehow.

“I~ amnot ignoring them!” A voice let out a slurred call through the Bear-Man shaped hole in the wall. It was a feminine coo. The girl at the counter could smell the alcohol on the woman before her hand slapped around the inside of the wall, looking for a grip point to pull herself into the building with. Finally a pretty blonde’s face appeared, lipstick smeared into a joyous, intoxicated grin. “Or I totally wouldn’t, if I knew what they were!” Upon seeing the older woman, it immediately clicked with the young lady, that this was a call girl. A very, very drunk call girl. The Bear-Man continued to growl sadly, realizing this woman wasn’t here because of his advertisement either, he wailed out accusations of someone taking them down, cursing and cussing as he did so. The young woman shifted uncomfortably at the vulgarity. Meanwhile the lady of the night slumped into the nearest booth. “Aw, c’mon buddy, don’t be sad~! Want some smir... smirnoff?” She held up the bottle in her hand, before she also slammed her head down onto the table, with a small giggle as opposed to a beastial roar.

“I spent a whole five minutes on those fliers!” He bellowed.

The night walker popped back up and took a swig of her vodka before laughing, “There’s a whole lot more you could do with five minutes.” She sent a wink at the younger girl, who wasn’t actually facing her.

“Tell me, what are your fliers advertising?” The girl at the counter asked the groaning hybrid. She also wanted to ask the prostitute if she was cold wearing nothing but the pink sweetheart top and skirt, but decided against it at the risk of offending the woman. She elected the fliers were just barely a more mundane, and less intrusive conversation to be had.

The Bear-Man perked his head up instantly, looking about erratically as though he was being watched. “They’re asking for test subjects!”

“Oh? Are you a scientist?” Her interest was piqued. She decided to grill for some more information on this curious figure.

“I’m a doctor! Doctor Bearface!” She swore his snout twisted into a smile. A grotesque, snarling smile. “See? I’m wearing a coat, an obvious sign that I am a doctor!”

“Are you by chance acquainted with a Doctor Grant?” The girl inquired, not nearly as threatened by the beast’s face as she should have been.

“Subjects?” The call girl chimed in from the back, interrupting the questioning, “Is this a paid position?”

“NO!” Doctor Bearface roared. “There’s no money involved, just test subjects!”

The woman shrugged, and took another swig of her Smirnoff. The young lady was about to ask what kind of experiment this so-called doctor was attempting, when his methods of finding volunteers had some much potential for confounding variables, but a man about the same age as the night walker poked his head into the door.

Moments earlier this humble mechanic had been scrounging around the street looking for spare parts and scrap metal - a daily routine for him, when he heard a bit of a clamour coming from the Cyber Denny’s. Something about a flier. He looked down at a partially crumpled paper sticking out of his scavenging satchel. _ Ohhhh... That’s what this is for! _ He thought to himself. The flier had hit him in the face during a gust of wind a few blocks back. He didn’t really know what to think of it, but was heading in the direction it advertised, so he tucked it into his bag. Against his better judgement, he stepped into the building. “Is everything alri-”

Doctor Bearface cut him off quite quickly. “Young lad! You there! With the hat!”

This now very startled man indeed was wearing a red baseball cap. “Yes?” He let out an extended ‘uhhh...’ as the beast continued to speak.

“Yes! You! Do you want to be a test subject?”

“For- for what?” He stammered. This chimera of man was going to make him go deaf with the volume he used! The girl at the bar shot him a sympathetic glance, noticing his obvious and sudden discomfort.

“I have a degree.” The white coated Bear-man gave a self satisfied nod, and crossed his arms over his chest. “A degree in ‘Doc-tor-ate!’” He had sounded out each syllable.

“That... isn’t something you can receive a degree...” The young lady began, though she dropped the statement, now well aware of the type of person she was dealing with.

The intern in his booth raised his shaking hand, but it was slapped down by the doctor’s which was approximately the size of a baseball mitt. “No questions! I have a doctorate!” He announced again, just in case no one heard him.

“A doctorate in something you can’t get a doctorate for...” The girl murmured.

“Yes, I am a doctor.” Again, the beast bared his teeth in that odd snarl-grin. “That is what I am, I am a very smart, and good, and accomplished doctor. It’s why I put up fliers, in a city.” He slammed a fist down on the table, “And then  _ they _ took it down! Because there’s no fun here! No fun allowed! In my old city it was fun! Everything was fun! Everyone had fun, it was great! Here? It’s boring, and everyone has a gun, so you can’t do anything anymore!”

The girl couldn’t help but notice his strange speech pattern. Everything he said was an oddly fragmented exclamation. As she further analyzed, the man in the door reached into his satchel and pulled out the piece of paper he had collected outside. “Is- Is this your flier?”

“YES!” In the blink of an eye, the creature vaulted his own booth, landed in front of the man, and snatched the flier out of his hands, causing the man to stumble into a booth behind him. “Finally! A man of taste, and understanding!”

The young lady at the bar’s mouth hung slightly open in a muted gasp, her pupils the size of needle points,  _ How in God’s name did he - _ She let out a small wheeze, jolted as this piece of paper was shoved in her face at a similarly alarming speed - her right arm, made of steel and the finest cybernetics available, barely catching and holding the large arm mere inches from her nose. As she struggled against this impossible strength, she studied the page. She didn’t know what to be more confused by; the material or the message.  _ “Become test, with doctorbearface” _ it said in heavily pressed blue crayon, adorned with a stick figure of the same color, a red one, and a crude drawing of a frowning bear head. There also appeared to be some houses, and a series of large spikes pointing at the stick figures. “Look! This is my flier! It’s very good!”

“Oh...” It occurred to her how woefully overpowering this  _ thing _ was. She decided her best course of action was to try and appease it. If this was the dangerous strength it had when it appeared happy, then what was it like even slightly perturbed? “I like... the colors you chose...” She rasped to him. She stole a look at the man who had just fallen into the booth, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly. He was clearly trying to process what just happened. She then glanced over at the escort, who seemed oblivious to the whole situation.

“Thank you, I’m a doctor.” He repeated. She nodded, and attempted a cordial smile, offering him a small ‘Mmhmm...’

It was at this point in time that another man entered the front door. He seemed younger than the first, about the same age as the girl at the counter, and equally sleep deprived. In his hands he held a flier, and in his eye, as he studied the scene, he held a look of pure indifference. This was not the weirdest shit he had seen, and it barely fazed him. He did not know, nor did he care what the fuck was going on, he just figured it was a way to get money. “Is this where the test thing is supposed to be?”

“FINALLY, YES!” The building shakes, this being his loudest exclamation yet, as he rushed to the new comer. The girl let out a large breath that she didn’t even believe her lungs still capable of holding, relieved she wasn’t straining against the weight any longer. “It is! It is!” He barked for his intern. “Albert! Albert!”

Recognizing that the name was almost his, the petrified twenty-something bolted up. “Yes- yes, Doctor Bearface! What do you need!?”

“Alfred, Alfred yes! Take this young man’s name! He’s a test subject! He’s ours now, here’s the contract-” He reaches a massive hand into his coat and pulls out another crumpled paper, which he then shoves into the man’s chest, landing with a thunk, causing a slight cough to come from him. “Sign this, and you’ll be ours!”

The man shook off the blow with impressive speed. “Yours for what?”

“Testing. I’m a doctor.” The Bearman replied.

He rolled his singular eye. “What kind of testing?”

Doctor Bearface offers an oddly spaced out gaze, his maw curling in on itself. “Testing.” He says again.

Fearing what he might do to the boy, the young lady attempted to intervene. “Could you be a bit more specific, doctor?”

“No,” He began, “It’s okay, because I’m a doctor, and I have a doctorate.”

The young man sighed, and turned to the red-capped man in the booth, who was hyperventilating a little bit less than he was before. “Hey, how much are we getting paid for this?”

“I don’t think we are getting paid...” He answered quietly.

“That’s right, no money involved.” Doctor Bearface replied with another nod. “Only free will, being stripped away by this handy contract.”

The one eyed man’s face twisted into a scowl for a moment. “Then why am I here?”

The beast pulled a crayon out of his coat and extended it toward the man, not to make a pun, bearing down on him. “Sign here.” He gestured down to the paper, which was surprisingly typed up, only in approximately font size 3.

“No.” He pressed the arm out of his face, and continued his bitter glare. “I’m not gonna be involved with this if I don’t get anything out of it.”

“But lad, I think the fates brought us together this day!” The Bearman clamped his massive hand down on the smaller one’s shoulder, who didn’t react initially. “I think you and I were meant to be! You were meant to be mine - my test subject, for me, a doctor.” His grip seemed to tighten with every word.

The girl at the counter suddenly jumped up, seeing the young man grit his teeth. “With all due respect, doctor- I... What may I call you?” She inched her way closer to the two.

Snapping his attention to the girl, he released the man. “My name is Doctor Bearface, you may call me Doctor Bearface!” The young man backed up a few steps, rolling his shoulder a few times, irritated as he did so. “There’s the ‘Bearface,’ that's my mother’s name, so Doctor Bearface! With a doctorate.” He added at the end.

“Oh? Alright then... With all due respect, Doctor Bearface...” She crept ever closer, and managed to put herself between the beast, and the man he was oddly fixated on. “I’m not certain that this is the most practical method to recruit volunteers.”

“No, no, my dear!” He chided her, wagging an oversized finger in her face. “We have to hurry! Or the man with a gun will come and kick us out!”

She found it in herself to let out a wheezy chuckle. “Doctor, everyone here has a gun.”

Again he chided with an excessive series of ‘no,’ “Not those types of guns! Those are pussy guns! I mean the man  _ with  _ the gun! The big gun! You know? The Guns.” As though that specified anything - eventually he spat out the words, “The military!” The young lady was slightly taken aback by his language, but before she could even sputter out an offended ‘my word!’ he continued, “They don’t like doctors!”

“The military, perhaps I know them!” She put a hand behind her back, trying to signal to the men behind her toward the door. She was desperately attempting to walk a troublesomely thin line between pestering the creature enough to distract him, but not actively upsetting him. “I know for certain that they  _ are _ fond of doctors.”

“They aren’t fond of doctors like me! Professionals! Professional doctors! Like me! So they probably already know I’m here, and I’m going to have to hurry along!” He attempted shove the crayon past the girl, who only just managed to dodge by stumbling back into the young man, interrupting his subtle step toward the exit. “So please, sign this paper- sign it.”

“N-no!” She caught the enormous wrist, trying to keep this pushy beast away from the exasperated man.

In the middle of all this ruckus, the call girl had snuck up behind the bear-man, she sprung to the side, with impressive agility considering her inebriation, and snatched the paper and crayon away from both sides. “I gotchu, fam~!” Without any thought, the woman scribbled the word ‘Chastity’ across the page, dotting the ‘i’ with a lopsided heart, though no one could see it. The young girl stared up at the Bearman in abject horror as his snout once more curled into his monstrous grin. With his inhuman speed, he stole his paper back, and lifted his petrified intern under his arms. The only sign he had moved out the door was the fact that it was swinging closed, a “Thank you..!” Fading into the distance.

Still clutching the crayon and her smirnoff the woman put her hands on her hips and offered a broad smile to the gawking trio. “See? He’s gone.” The bottle clanged lightly against a whip, tethered to her side. Whatever victory she felt was cut short by a slowly growing rumbling noise. “Oof, that’s too loud! What is that?” She slurred, tucking the crayon down her shirt.

_ I think that ‘thing’ was a bit noisier but... _ The girl turned her attention toward the window, at the least agreeing that the source of the sound was getting closer. “It sounds a bit like...” As she gazed up Merle Street, she was met with an impossibly large number of tanks, each clawing for a place in the road, each heading right for the Cyber Denny’s. “Tanks. Oh dear!” The others followed her stare and understood her surprise. Leading this charge was a single tank, a man with a megaphone popped out at the top. “DOCTOR BEARFACE, I KNOW YOU’RE THERE. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP.”

The young man let out a fairly indifferent ‘Hmph,’ before notifying everyone. “Don’t know about you people but, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here.”

“I wouldn’t advise going out that way...” The girl replied quietly.

“Yeah, probably not,” The older man nodded in agreement, “Seems like a bad time.”

“Well,” The call girl winked, this time all parties actually noticing it, “A little bit of hurt might do you some good.”

The one eyed man took a long, deep breath, before speaking plainly. “I don’t like you.”

She kept up her smile. “You don’t have to like me, sugarplum~!”

“Don’t call me that.” He stepped away from the group, then hopped the counter. “Is there a back door we can get out of, or are we stuck here?”

The older man thought for a moment. “I think this place was built when there was an actual fire-code, so there should be one.”

“Great.” He disappeared through the door leading to the back kitchen.

The young lady began walking to the end of the bar, avoiding jumping over the counter, after the young man. She gasped as she rounded the corner, facing down five bodies. Two chefs, and three waitresses lay in a pile bound with rope and mouths covered with duct tape, feet from where she had been sitting the entire time. She scrambled to the floor, pulling the bodies off each other. She let out a sigh of relief to find everyone still breathing. She poked her head up. “Is everyone alright with the idea of me untying these people?”

The escort had sat down at the bar when no one was looking, and seemed to be taking a small snooze. She offered a small snore in response. The older man gave her a shrug. “Go for it, I guess.”

“Need help?” The younger man called from through the opening between the bar and kitchen.

She dug into her coat pockets, searching for a switch blade somewhere in her two personal seas of bullets and coins. “I might. Have you found an exit?”

“I did, but,” He made his way back through the door. “The whole thing is boarded up. It looked pretty recent too.” He turned to the older man, mostly ignoring the semi-conscious prostitute. “You got anything in that bag that could take out some nails?”

The red capped man hopped over the counter, careful to not step on the sleeping staff members. He cracked his knuckles as he went through the kitchen. “Time to work my magic!”

The one-eyed man knelt on the floor and joined the young lady in ripping the duct tape off the faces of the incapacitated. It didn’t particularly bother him that he had ripped off the mustache of one of the chefs in the process. What did bother him was the fact that this, and all the previous commotion hadn’t woken these people up. That was just kind of fucked. He wasn’t aware of the girl studying him as she dug into her pockets once more, this time bringing a knife out. He had quite an impressive amount of scarring on the left side of his face, which would help explain the presence of an eye-patch. However this stirred feelings of discomfort and familiarity in the young lady. Sure, there were many people in First with scars. She was one of them - but this was very distinct. She would feel terribly ill-mannered if she had forgotten that they did in fact know each other somehow.

“I understand this is not the best time for it,” She looked up once she freed the arms of the middle-aged waitress she had in her lap, Beatrice, the old lady she was thinking of earlier. She almost had it right. “But, you look familiar. Have we met before?”

He stopped mid tear of another piece of duct tape, frozen for a split, barely noticeable second. “I don’t think so.” He continued his rip.

He was a fantastic liar, she noted. Most would have assumed the pause was a moment of hesitation - him racking his brain for the answer to the question. It was. The real tell of it all was the way his eye flicked toward her as he answered. Offering him an unassuming smile, she extended her right arm towards him. “In that case, my name is Jameson Grant. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It was a strange thing to lie about. She liked to think she didn’t have many enemies. People who feared her, certainly. You don’t earn the nickname ‘General,’ for nothing. But being so scared they would deny having ever met? Liar or not, she greeted him with the courtesy that her aristocratic blood demanded of her.

‘Grant,’ That confirmed it all for him, his stomach creeping its way into his throat. Of all the people he had to deal with today, this might have been the worst for him. Still, his name wouldn't have meant shit to someone of her status. She’d forget it moments later, he was certain, that was how these blue-bloods usually were. This thought alone made him feel safe enough to reveal it to her, “Andy Caslin.” He gave her a half-hearted handshake, before they both resumed slicing at the remaining ropes. As the pair cut the last staff member free, the rumbling of the tanks was momentarily overpowered by the sound of creaking wood, followed by clattering.

“Guys! The door’s open!” A happy voice hollered from the back as the red-capped man began drop the large planks on the floor into his bag. This fine fellow seemed to be in the possession of a spatial warping storage satchel! He was quite proud of himself, for this job he didn’t even need his hammer! He had ripped them off with his bear hands, keeping them in fantastic condition for use later, he imagined. All those days lifting in the shop were really starting to pay off for his strength.

Again, while people weren’t paying attention, the prostitute had gotten up and moved to the front window. “Mmmm, they’re gettin’ closer.” She knocked back another sip of vodka. “Not good~!”

“DOCTOR BEARFACE, I AM DONE WAITING.” The man with the megaphone barked toward the building, now only a block away. “FORWARD MARCH!”

“Oo~ Other not good. I got a client later...” She tapped the side of her head in a ‘duh,’ moment to herself as the tanks began speeding towards the front window.

“Get out of the way!” Andy shouted to the woman as the tanks jumped the curb. He ducked under the bar as the glass in the front, and the wood in the first layer of the booths shattered inward.

The escort was knocked stomach first into the counter by the impact. “Not so rough, boys.” She scolds behind her. Her odd joke aside, she seemed to recognize the urgency of the situation, quickly trying to stumble around the counter to the back of the building.

The young man turned to Jameson. “We gotta get the hell out of here!” With a rush of adrenaline, he tossed the old lady waitress, and one of the younger ones over each of his shoulders, before making a mad sprint past the older man who had appeared in the kitchen doorway. The girl followed his lead, using her metal arm to clutch one of the chefs by the back of his collar.

“Could you grab the last two?” She asked the red capped man as he held the door for her. 

He nodded to her on her way out, grabbing the last chef and waitress by an arm. “Uh, ma’am?” He let out a sharp whistle to the lady of the night as he dragged the unconscious bodies with him. “The door is this way.”

“Daw thanks, homie!” She reached down for a moment, stepping out of her heels in an  effort to give herself an easier walk, finally making her way behind the kitchen door after him. “Gotta live to get back to work!” She joins the group waiting in the alley behind the Denny’s as a second tank crashed into the building.

“NO. STOP RUNNING. I SAID STOP RUNNING!” A third tank busted into the wall as the man with a megaphone screamed into the broken front; a relic from the old world dying in his fit of blind rage.

* * *

**F**

* * *

The escort thought to herself that the side street didn’t reek nearly as bad as some of her customers, but was still incredibly unpleasant. She let out a groan, leaning against the side of the building. Sure she was used to drinking a lot - but drinking a lot and then smelling something horrible was a two-hit combo that she hadn’t anticipated dealing with. “God, I waaannaaa go hoooome!” On the brightside for her, the tanks had stopped rumbling for the time being, possibly stalled by the fact that two or three were now stuck in the Cyber Denny’s. This small boon alone gave her the motivation to slap her heels back onto her feet.

Jameson had rested the chef she was carrying upright against the wall opposite the doorway, while Andy had discarded the two women he had lugged into a nearby garbage pile by throwing them. The red capped man had made a vague attempt at some sort of goldilocks combo between both methods, unceremoniously leaning his two staff members against another garbage mound, but without YEETing them into it. The sober members of the group began weighing their options in their own way. All observations boiling down to the fact that they could not possibly walk out of the alley without being spotted by the torrent of military vehicles on the main street. It may have been possible if the sun was lower in the sky, but not anymore.

As Jamie rose from the body she placed down, she became eye level with a piece of paper that looked awfully familiar to her, now vandalized and scribbled over with more crayon, ‘ _ Already taken, no more spots, thank you goodbye - Doctor Bearface’ _ She tore it off the brick, and pocketed it, thinking to herself if the escort went missing in the coming days, the paper was potential lead. “My bike is around front. Even if I get to it, I could only carry one other person.” She tells the two men with a frown. She wheezed a small bit as she spoke - carrying the man had winded her greatly.

“Can you give me a ride?” The lady of the night comes up behind her, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

The action made her tilt her body back slightly, revealing a fire escape for the next building to her. The young lady gave her a small pat, before sliding the woman off of her. “Maybe when you’ve sobered up a bit, ma’am.”

The woman snorted. “Kitten, I’m never sober.” The snort turned to another loud groan as a siren began wailing in the distance. “My fuckin’ ears! Seriously!”

Everyone in First knew what that sound meant - a repurposed nuclear alarm reserved for the the military. They were looking for something, and that meant everyone within the city walls had to be awake to cooperate. With that, and the previous few moments in mind, that only meant one thing.

The entire military force of First City was about to converge onto them.

“I think we oughta get as far away from here as we can, as fast as possible so we don’t fucking die.” Andy told the other three bluntly.

“I second that.” The older man agreed.

“I third the notion.” Jamie added, doing her best to ignore the other young person’s foul mouth.

“We should go to my apartment - my TV works sometimes!” The older woman cheered. “And I’ve got a bed - that's two whole things.” She held up two fingers, just so everyone was clear on how many things she had.

“That’s very nice, ma’am... I don’t think the street is a viable option for us, at the moment.” Jameson gestured toward the rusty fire escape. “Roof hopping, anyone?”

While the two men shrugged in agreement, the drunk call girl cut in with a laugh. “Honey, there is no way I can see straight long enough to climb that shit.”

The girl tilted her head to the side, unintentionally exposing the multiple layers of gauze wound around her throat to the others. “I wouldn’t have much of a chance on my own either.” She eyed the two others for a moment. “You both managed to haul the staff out well enough. Do you think you would each be able to carry one of us up to the roof?”

“Sure, fine, whatever.” Without leaving time for argument, Andy strode forward and lifted the escort over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She continued to laughed as she dangled upside-down. “Just a regular Friday night for me~!”

“I could drop you.” The man grabbed the first rung of the fire escape ladder. “I could drop you right now. It would be easy.”

“Hurt me, do it.” She cooed.

For the first time that morning, he gave an obvious display of his endless frustration. He let out a disgusted grumble as he climbed up. At first that seemed to be it, then as he rounded the turn to get onto the next level’s ladder, he let her head hit the railing. The first time it happened he offered a “Whoops, my bad.” When it came again on the second level he gave her an, “Oh no, not again.” And on the third and final platform, he threw her off his shoulder like he had done with the staff down below onto the roof, finishing his monotone apologies off with, “Sorry, you were heavier than I expected, it through me off balance.”

She recovered quickly, sitting up, fixing her hair by running a hand through it a few times, and scowling at the three copies of him she was now seeing. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Because you said you couldn’t climb the fire escape.” He fired back, pulling himself onto the roof with her.

“Apparently you can’t either, Cotton-Eye-Joe!” She rubbed her head, the blows making her feel painfully undrunk.

“Well hey,” He rolled his eye at her. “At least you aren’t down there anymore.” He leaned back over the edge, calling down to the remaining two. “Coast is clear, can you two make it up?”

Jameson eyed the red capped man wearily, quickly learning from the mistakes of the previous pair. “Could you piggy-back me up, instead of over your shoulder?”

“Certainly! Hop on, and we’ll be right u- OH, wait a sec!” He dug into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, and came back out with a small box, about the size of a hand radio. “Can you hold the little guy for me? He doesn’t like the bag, and I don’t want him to fall.”

“Little..?” She took the box from his outstretched hand, then blinked in surprise when a tiny screen on the front lit up with a ‘:)’ smiley face.

“Hi, I’m Boxy!” A metal wire hanging on it’s side waved to her. “What’s your name?”

She let out the small noise most people make when they see a puppy. “Hello, I’m Jamie!”

“Boxy, you’re gonna be with her while we climb up, okay?”

The face on the screen shifted to ’^_^’ as the high pitched mechanical voice affirmed with an “Okay~!” The box settled between the high collar of Jameson’s jacket, and her neck, allowing her to keep her arms over the man’s shoulders. This duo had made it up to the roof without much incident compared to the others. They were not given a moment to celebrate a successful climb, however. Their landing was met by loud crashing and clanging.

“So, Miss Grant,” Andy regarded her as she found her footing, and returned the sentient machine to its owner. “You’re the one who told us to come up here - where to now?”

She looked down to watch a piece of history crumble below them. “To the next rooftop, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE PAUSE ON THE ROOF, THE MILITARY TAKING OVER THE LAST CYBER DENNY’S, AS OUR PARTY DELIBERATES IF THIS IS THE BEST OPTION.


	2. A Hero Appears!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love these sessions, truly.
> 
> LAST TIME ON FATE CORE...
> 
> A drunk women signed a mysterious contract created by an even more mystery man with a bearface claiming to be a doctor! After he absconds, the girl with a metal arm discovered the staff of the restaurant they were in had been incapacitated. While the mechanic looked for an exit, a one eyed man assisted in untying the staff - the group was interrupted by a suddenly assembled army, demanding the ‘Doctor’ reveal himself. With the mysterious man already gone from the scene, the militia began destroying the building. The group made its way out a back exit, and onto the roof of the next building, the Last Cyber Denny’s in existence being blown to smithereens behind them.
> 
> Who is this colorful cast of individuals? Will this militia continue to pursue them? How are they going to get down?! 
> 
> Find out now, on this exciting episode of FATE CORE!

Sirens blared in The Escort’s ears. Getting hit in the head a few times seemed to have caused her to sober up slightly. She was not emotionally ready for that yet. Nor was she physically prepared for the concerning number of helicopters heading in their direction, and the sheer volume of people they were waking up. She hardly had time to be bitter though. The little shit that caused her not-alcohol-induced headache was trying to tell everyone, her included, what to do. Some shit about roof hopping or whatever. Other than that series of annoyances and inconveniences it was quite a nice day outside.  _ Where are we even going to go? _ She asked herself.

Jameson, or rather ‘Kitten,’ to the call girl, sighed as she turned from the edge of the building. “I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet...” The escort outstretched her bottle of Smirnoff to her, giving it an encouraging shake. She had somehow managed to hold onto it during the ladder debacle. The young lady held her hand up, and shook her head. “No ma’am, I don’t drink. Thank you.”

“You still have that?” The little shit asked, moderately bewildered.

She shot him a wink, “Of course, I keep all my essentials handy~!” She was absolutely furious with him, but what good would showing that do her in this situation?

The young man rolled his eyes. “Whatever...we need jump to the next few rooftops until we can find somewhere to climb down, and then we have to make a break for it.”

The call girl smiled. “Considering you dropped me last time, I hope you have a better solution than that.” She continued with a perky air, but her bitterness was showing through.

His fist clenched, but other than that his tone was the only thing that betrayed his frustration with the woman. “Okay, do you think you can jump to the next building on your own? Because I’m offering to carry you, or you can do it yourself.”

Her mind hit a wall, pissing the bastard off probably wasn’t the best course of action. “Okay look, I’ll admit, I’m not sober and I’m not the best jumper” She shrugged. “I just don’t think this is our best way out.”

“Do you have a better idea?!” The kid barked at her.

Ooo~ he was catty. For a split second she wanted to knock him upside the head with her vodka. That’d probably teach him a little lesson.

“Fellas!” The red capped man cut in, thinking at least one of these people were going to go for the other’s throat if he did not intervene. “No one needs to do any jumping. I can build something to get us across.” His eyes darted around, looking for objections.

The kid huffed. “Sure, fuck it.”

The call girl turned her coy grin to the other man. “There we go! Thanks Sugar Bear.” Before he could even process what the woman called him the girl in the blue coat tried to add in her own two cents.

“If I may interject,” The younger woman began, “Whatever you end up crafting - we would have to feasibly be able to tear it down quickly so an assailant on foot can’t pursue us as easily.” Good God this girl was wordy. It felt like any time her mouth was open for longer than five word sentences she might have actively contributed more to the headache the nightwalker had than the initial trauma that started it.

After the younger man had taken a second to process what the actual fuck the other young person had said, he nodded. “She’s right.”

“No problem there!” The red capped man gave them a thumbs up before he began digging into the satchel at his side. “I picked up a bunch of wood when we were opening the door, we’ll use it to get across - then we could throw it down between the buildings so they can’t use it!” He excitedly made his way to the opposite side of the building as he yanked some two-by-fours out of the satchel. For a moment everyone was bewildered at the blatant violation of physics. The escort thought her vodka might have been laced with something - reality set in. They lived in a world where the Spatial Warping Storage Satchel was a thing - no need to be alarmed by the breaking of reality. The man seemed fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, happily going about his business, laying his boards across the gap. This would be what would stand between this motley crew and a thirty foot drop.

His work was not unstable, by any means, it stretched the fifteen feet between the rooftops, but was only a little over a foot wide. It probably would have also been more secure if he had used nails to keep it in place, but his instructions were clear - it would have to be easy to dispose of. This was a passable solution, so long as no one made too terrible of a misstep while crossing.

The call girl happily declared that she would proceed first, knowing she was sober-ish for the time being, meaning it was now or never for her. She didn’t know a lot about construction, but she was pretty sure that the planks were decaying in a few places. Though she had removed her heels when stepping around all the glass back at Cyber Denny’s, she had neglected to repeat the action over the precarious gap. The man who crafted the bridge offered her a hand to get up, but had to let her go as she got about a foot along. From there she was on her own. She stared down at her feet with an intensity and focus most people would not believe she was fully capable of. She held her vodka close to her generous chest, like a mother cradling an infant, promising herself a good, solid chug of it once she made it to the end. As she made it about halfway, the top lift of her shoe had punctured through one of the deteriorated portions of the board, her entire bodying dropping with it. By some miracle, she did not plummet into the alley below, and by some fairly subjective fortune she landed crotch first on a plank, with one leg on either side. “Oh~!” She gasped before anyone could even offer her their concern for her safety, “I don’t think it's the most rotted wood I’ve ever had there, at least.” She resteadied herself, and finished crossing on her hands and knees, accompanied by a chorus of uncomfortable groans of disgust and second-hand embarrassment from her newfound companions.

While she happily knocked back about four or five gulps from the next rooftop, glad her fishnet tights hadn’t torn, the little shit climbed up next and began his own shaky trek across. He repeated to himself in his mind several times over,  _ Don’t step on the rotted part. Don’t step on the rotted part. Don’t step on the rotted part. _ His skewed depth perception made the whole ordeal that much more precarious. But that was the least of his worries as one of the helicopters, once in the distance but now much closer, was making a line right for him. “Shit!” He grit his teeth and attempted to power through the strong gusts of wind it was creating, but as he reached the halfway point, the aircraft swooped downwards toward him. His green jacket billowed out around him, creating a parachute-like drag on his body. He had no choice but to go over the side of the boards. By sheer luck, he had twisted his himself around and caught the wood by his fingers, leaving him dangling as the helicopter went to make a wide arc to turn around. The builder stumbled forward, slamming down on the corner opposite to the side the young man fell, preventing the makeshift bridge from flipping over because of his weight.

Before anyone else could react the girl in the blue coat stepped onto the bridge and with a dignified poise, made her way to the seemingly cursed halfway point, the red sash tied around her waist repeatedly threatening to strike her face by the wind’s hand did not seem to deter her. There would be nothing for her to discover about this man she may know if he died now, and that wouldn’t be much fun for her. About a foot away from him, she sat down on the boards, her legs tucking behind her, back towards the red capped man who was quite close to biting his own lip off in fear.

“Mister Caslin,” She let out a composed rasp, barely audible to him over the  _ wrring _ helicopter blades, and she took each of his wrists in her hands. “I’m going to pull you up as far as I can - I need you to swing your legs closer to that woman, and not towards me, alright?”

He nodded to her, though he wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. He felt a tug on his arms, one side considerably more powerful than the other. One of her hands was made of metal. He did his best to meet her request, pulling himself onto the the boards. He winced as the wood seemed to sag under their combined weight, but saw no reaction from the girl, only an impossible calm in her eyes. He knew which Grant she was now, and there was not a single thing about this scenario that did not both confuse, and terrify him internally. Jameson was the mercenary.

She let go of him as he sat up and began to sidle towards the call girl. “Come on.” He said, noticing she hadn’t moved yet.

She shook her head. “We need to keep our weight spread out.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I knew that.” He murmured, quickly making his way across. The escort, done (for now) absolutely pounding down the vodka, had grabbed him to help him down, and for the first time he was actually glad she was there.

Jameson made her way after Andy, eyeing the helicopter that was nearly done turning back as she did so. “Are you alright?” She asked as she took the hand he offered to get onto the roof.

“I’m fine, thank y-” He cut himself off, staring past the girl in confusion. “Who the fuck is that?”

The trio on the new building turned their attention to a strange new individual currently crossing their boards of wood. “Cool bridge you got here!” The gangly black clad young man called back to the thoroughly befuddled red capped man. It was probably a bad idea to look back over his shoulder. Even though he was almost completely across, he had neglected another less than stable portion of wood. His foot scuffed it, causing him to stumble. Though he landed on the roof, he did so face first. He was fine, but the whole situation was just pathetic and sad. “Ouch!” His voice was muffled. The only reaction he got out of the trio aside from stunned silence was a small ‘Oh dear...’ From the younger woman. 

No one asked the man where in the flying fuck he came from, because the mechanic was trying to make a mad dash across in lieu of the helicopter charging towards him. Much like the prostitute and her vodka, the man was clutching Boxy close to his torso, trying to shield the bot from the increasingly strong wind. He clumsily pounded his feet down on the rotting wood, his whole body suddenly falling through it.

“Fuck!” The one eyed man exclaimed, looking down the side of the building, trying to find where the other man might have landed in the alleyway. Andy had a policy - while he didn’t particularly give a shit about people, he would prefer that they not die in front of him if he could do anything about it. He was shocked to find him, not with a broken spine on the pavement, but dangling from his mechanical companion, who seemed to have wrapped some cable tethers around the wood. Aside from looking terribly shaken, and hanging three stories in the air, he was so perfectly okay that his hat was still secure on his head. The pilot that had brought this about seemed content to hover over the group as his vehicle's machine gun was deployed from the cab of the craft, causing the mechanic and his box to swing wildly. Andy tried to wave the soldier back. “You’re going to kill him!” He tried to screamed over the engine.

The pilot leaned out of the cab’s window, taking a megaphone with him. He cleared his throat and began barking, “TRAITORS, YOU WILL NOT-”

Andy cut him off immediately with some barking of his own, realizing this military bootlicker didn’t care if one of them died, “FUCK YOU! YOU SELFISH PRICK!” He jabbed a finger in the copters direction, “CHOKE AND DIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” It was probably the most emotion he had shown in several years, all of it pent up rage.

It seemed luck was on his side that day, because as the young man commanded, the pilot began to choke on his spontaneously formed laryngeal cancer, hacking and coughing so hard he lurched out of the helicopters window, and plummeted into a garbage pile in the alley way. While this took the group out of danger of being shot by automatic weapons, it very unfortunately threw them into the danger of being struck by a now driverless military grade war copter. The red capped man specifically was more imperiled by this, as the copter was descending towards him.

The air was pierced by the screech of metal on metal, sparks flying as the helicopter was not sent crashing into the buildings, but was instead cleaved in half. The group on the roof was forced to look away as plumes of smoke erupted before them, their own hair attacking them from the wave of wind.

As the dust settled, the man in black heard a thud on the ground next to him. He, and everyone else’s gaze followed from the shaken - but very alive mechanic - up to the gargantuan figure sheathing one of three blades tethered to his waist. They stared in awe at what appeared to be a seven foot tall smurf built like a refrigerator.

“Blue..?” The young woman called out to him. “Is that yo-”

“Blue Waffle!” The escort shrieked with glee. “It’s been like forever! What’s good?”

“It has been two days, Chastity.” The giant told her very matter-of-factly.

“You right, you right...” The woman, ‘Chastity,’ agreed. “I’ve been havin’ a hell of a day, my man. First I found this vodka on the side of the road, but I don’t think it’s actually even vodka - cuz ever since I started drinkin’ it all this weird and crazy shit has been happening -”

“How do you do, Blue?” the young lady tried to greet him again as the call girl rattled off the past thirty minutes of her life.

“Now isn’t the time for pleasantries, General.” With his hands free of his swords, he reached down and grabbed the two grounded men by their sweatshirt collars, lifting them to their own standing heights, and setting them on their own feet. 

“I agree, let's get the fuck out of here.” The one eyed man glared at the other helicopters making their way towards them.

“We’ll go to Miss Grant’s home. It’s a hospital - they won’t think to look there.” ‘Blue’ ordered them.

“Fuckin litty, my dudes!” The Escort took another swig of smirnoff. Today was just so exciting and different for her!

To put it lightly, the scotch Miss Grant had put in front of Chastity might have been worth more than two month’s salary, and by the looks of everything else in the room it wasn’t even that expensive comparatively. Needless to day, everyone was feeling slightly out of their element with the exception of the young lady, who had happily brought everyone else tea. At least the kid was perceptive enough to bring her something she would actually drink. The escort gratefully took a few swigs - desperately trying to not sober up too much and completely ignoring the small drinking glass that had been given to her along with the bottle. This whole situation was beyond uncomfortable, and the only way she was going to get by was if she was tipsy.

They had gathered around a ‘coffee table’ more comparable with a grand dining table like the one Chastity’s parents had before things went to shit. On each side was a couch where most people had elected to settle in, and at the table head sat Miss Grant in an armchair, drowning in the fabric of that oversized coat of hers. ‘Blue Waffle’ had decided that leaning against a wall in the corner opposite the front door was a better fit for him, though getting the tea in the middle of the room was certainly tempting. He had his arms folded, and his beanie capped head tucked downward slightly. What a goddamn edgelord. The young lady took a delicate sip from a tea cup, “Please, help yourselves, its chamomile.”

“Chama...” ‘Cotton-Eye-Joe’ echoed, but stopped himself. He had a lot of questions about where they were and what they were doing. What weird, bougie tea this girl had was not the most productive place to start. He thought for a moment about asking why she lived in a very cushy apartment above a hospital, but that also seemed like it wouldn’t tell him much that he didn’t already know. Everyone and their brother knew that the eldest Grant son ran a hospital - why wouldn’t a few of the family members live nearby? Yes, obviously some should even live in the same building! It was six floors tall, and about a block in length. If anything, it was more worth questioning why this apartment didn’t take up the entire top floor, but instead tucked itself away at the end of the hall overlooking the street. It was still probably the biggest residence he had ever been legitimately invited into, but he digressed. Andy glanced at the man in all black next to him, who was occupied by staring intensely at the tiny, steaming teacup cradled in his hands. His color palette was aggressively dark, with the exception of his pasty as fuck skin, his brown hair, and his eyes which burned a peculiar red. That wasn’t something he’d see every day. His eye narrowed. He knew this guy from somewhere. The question was did he give enough of a shit to acknowledge it? The young man took a tea cup in his hand, took a sip, and did his best to pretend it didn’t burn his tongue.

The room was meant to be sunny, the mechanic noted. But large, thick curtains had been drawn across the windows when they entered. He also drank a bit of the tea, almost reminiscing happily about when this kind of drink was more readily available. This part of the building had remarkable craftsmanship. They had heard groans of pain as they climbed up the five flights of stairs through the hospital, but by the time they had gotten into the living area, they were long muted. “It’s very nice in here.” He attempted idle chatter, though it was admittedly quite cozy once you got used to the fact that everything in the room was probably more valuable than most organs on the black market. Being in jeans and a hoodie reaaallly made him feel underdressed.

“Thank you, one of my sisters planned the space out.” She took another mannered sip of her drink, before she placed the cup back on the coffee table, looking to the giant in the corner. “So, Blue...”

“Yo.” He raised a hand in acknowledgement.

“What were you doing on a roof next to a burning Cyber Denny’s?” She asked, crossing her legs, and nestling into her chair.

“Well, I was on my way back to my house, and I saw a bunch of helicopters,” He began, never shifting from his pose on the wall. “And I said to myself, ‘Wow, that looks a lot more interesting than my house.’ And then I followed them, and when I got there I saw this fine gentleman being threatened by the helicopters.” He gestured to the red capped man. “So I decided to spring into action using my family’s secret helicopter splitting technique that can only be used once every twenty-four hours.”

_ Convenient. _ Andy thought with an eyebrow raise.

“Oh, Blue!” The girl smiled as though everything he said sounded perfectly reasonable, offering him a wheeze ridden giggle. “You are just incorrigible!”

“I have no idea what that word means.” He replied.

“Don’t worry too much about it.” She turned her head to the man in all black, still all smiles. “And the individual who decided to tag along into my house, who are you?”

“Actually yeah, where did you come from?” The young man joined Jameson in questioning. “Were you inside of the Denny’s? And when did you get onto the roof?”

The man shrugged, “I just saw everything going on. It looked pretty interesting, so I followed you guys.”

The blue man in the corner gave an understanding nod. “I can relate to that sentiment.”

“Alright then, but why?” The young lady attempted to grill further.

The mechanic gave the two new characters a confused look. “We were running from a collapsing Denny’s, why would you want to follow us?”

“Why would I stay in the burning Denny’s?” The red eyed man shot back.

“Good point...” The mechanic took a slightly uncomfortable sip of his tea. Was it rude of him to keep wearing his hat in a place like this? He wasn’t sure.

The girl in the blue coat suddenly sat forward in her chair. “Do you know who the man with the bear face was?”

He gave her a sad shrug. “Unfortunately I do not. Sorry.” He told her sheepishly.

The prostitute suddenly perked up from nursing the scotch. “Hey! Speaking of the bear-dude, I think I accidentally signed that piece of paper.”

The three who were present for that erupted into a chatter of confused ‘why did you do that?’ and ‘What is wrong with you?’ But all were cut through by the giant, “Chastity, you’re a moron! You should never sign something if you don’t know what it is!”

“Okay but like consider this,” She decided to take a swig and briefly nurse her scotch once more, “I was absolutely smashed when I did it.”

“Are you not right now?” The one eyed man nearly threw his hands up, bewildered, but halted, not wanting to throw around the tea cup and the dangerously hot liquid in it.

“This all happened, literally like thirty minutes ago!” The mechanic added.

The man in the corner actually seemed to stop leaning on the wall for a moment, standing up tall to scold the older woman. One could only make the distinction since the orange cloak he wrapped himself in was now listing freely, where it had been previously bunched with him against the wall. “You cannot continue to use this excuse for everything Chastity. You must at some point learn to be sober.” 

“It’s been working for like, the past ten-ish years of my life though!” She defensively clutched the scotch bottle to the dip in the top of her pink sweetheart dress, and nowhere else notable about her upper torso region in the slightest.

“Has it though?” ‘Blue’ asked, clearly rhetorically.

“Yes it has!” She gave a furious stomp of her foot, though she was seated. 

Jameson frowned. That was probably going to scuff the hardwood floor. “I see you two have some...business.” She observed.

“Hell yeah!” Chastity cheered, very apparently tipsy again. “My boi! Blue Waffle over there, he ah- ya know?”

“Blue Waffle?” Andy asked out loud.

The mechanic snickered, figuring him and the Grant girl were probably too young to remember what that meant. He wasn’t so sure on the goth kid though, he was staring at the steam of the tea still.

“Blue, I don’t mean to pry, but it’s been months since I’ve last seen you - since our last escort mission together, I just-” She paused for a moment, collecting herself after realizing she may have been showing just a bit too much emotion. “Why do you know this woman?”

“Oh...I uh- Should I say the uh...fine establishment that she works at required a bit of extra muscle. Sort of a combo bouncer-bartender position type thing. And they decided since I have mastered the way of the blade, and the way of the booze, that I could fill this position.”

Chastity snickered, “You don’t have to call the Huff-and-Puff a fine establishment, we all know its a piece a shit!”

“So you’re saying you work at a brothel?” The young man clarified.

“It pays well.” ‘Blue’ answered.

Again, the escort snickered, “Says the man!” She didn’t seem to register that she had made herself and her peers the butt of a joke on equity. All things considered, she actually had some fairly wealthy clientele - she may have just been too down the bottle to remember at the moment.

“Let’s change the subject!” The topic of brothels had left the young lady mildly flustered, and blushing slightly, she fixed the golden tiara on her head to settle her nerves. “You’re all in my home, and yet I don’t know most of you by name. Who would like to introduce themselves first?”

The escort shot the girl a wink from pretty green, if a bit overly mascara decorated, eyes. “You can call me anything you like, Kitten.” She brushed a long tuft of blonde hair from her face - only one side though, the other side of her head was buzzed quite short.

“Her name is Chastity.” ‘Blue’ answered for her. “The irony is not lost on anyone.”

Jameson did her best to smile politely, clasping her metallic and organic hands together. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Uh, hi. My name is Al Clements.” The man in the red cap spoke up before an awkward silence could begin. “I’m a mechanic and I build stuff with my little box buddy here.” He looked down at the radio sized bot that was settled in the folds of his grey sweatshirt. “His name is Boxy.”

“I’m Andy.” The young man with the eye patch introduced himself. “I’m a man for hire.”

“In what sense of the word?” The giant asked. That statement meant a lot of different things in his usual line of work.

His brown hair swayed as he shifted to consider his response. “In whatever sense is needed.”

“Oh really~!” Chastity teased at him.

“No.” Andy got up from the couch and went to go stand by the window. It was still covered, but at least he wasn’t near the prostitute anymore.

The remaining group at the coffee table turned its attention to one of their own. They looked to the man in all black, who looked up from the dissipating steam of his tea cup. “My name is Phoenix.” He told them before looking back down, finished with his portion of the interaction.

“Phoenix..?” Al tried to coax something further from him.

“Yeah, that’s my name.” He said, twirling a robotic hand through the vapor of his cup.

Chastity laughed. “You don’t talk much, do ya?”

“Nah.” He gave her a curt response.

The young lady Grant sighed knowing this line of questioning wasn’t going to go anywhere. She looked tired. Well, she always looked tired - her under eye bags were a semi-permanent feature, but in the dark her brown hair looked greyish. The only thing that was alert were the sharp grey-blue eyes common of all her siblings. She did her best to perk up when she spoke, though she was permanently soft spoken. “My name is Jameson Grant. You may already know of me as ‘General Grant,’ but please, call me ‘Jamie.’” She raised a hand to gesture, as opposed to point, at the oversized smurf in the corner. “That tall gentleman over in the corner is called ‘Son Hattori,’ he and I do mercenary work together.” She decided to introduce Hattori, knowing he wasn’t much better at conversation than Phoenix was around people he didn’t know unless he was really interested in something. “With introductions out of the way, I believe we should begin discussing what to do abou-”

Jameson was cut off by a sudden furious knocking at the door to her apartment. Everyone in the room froze. “Jamie! Jamie are you there?!”

The girl somehow got a few shades paler than she already way, but other than that gave no tells of distress. She cleared her throat. “Coming~!” She stood from her arm chair, and made her way to the door.

“Are you insane?” Andy hissed as she walked by. “The entire town is looking for us by now!”

“Settle down, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She leaned against the wall next to the doorframe. “I’m here, hello. Who is this?” She added jokingly.

“Jamie, I need you to let me in, it’s really important!” A nazily voice called from the other side. “The entire city has gone nuts!”

She managed to huff out a laugh. “What else is new?”

“This is important, gosh darn it!” The voice cried out with a sudden shrill. Jameson instinctively leapt backwards, the front door being kicked inward. In the doorway stood a rather gremlin-esque young man. His wild eyes locked onto the girl in blue. “HiJamie,wherehaveyoubeen?Areyouokay?Thecityisinchaos,bythewaydoyouknowwhatthisis?!” The entire rest of the room struggled to comprehend this creature prattling on a mile a minute. He tore a hand into his pocket, smacking the contents into her hands. “This thing has been found everywhere! The military is looking for this guy!” He began aggressively tapping the sheet of paper. Jameson stared down at the shitty crayon drawing of a bear in horror. “And-and they’ve been collecting these pages. Do you know anything about this? I figured you would, you kind of know everything.” He took in a sudden gasp of air, visibly out of breath from his tirade.

“Okay...okay.” She took the wilting man by the arm. “Would you like to sit down?” She pulled him into the apartment, quickly poking her head out down the hall, before carefully closing the door.

He nodded, “Y-yes, that- that sounds goo-” He took in the strange crowd gathering around the coffee table. “Wha-what the-! Who the FRICK are these people-”

The girl cut him off before he could go on another ramble, “I was having a get together.”

He took in some nervous deep breathes, “Jamie who are these people?!”

“Friends from work,” She dragged up another chair that was previously by a bookshelf near the window. “Sit down.”

The man slumped into the chair for about a fraction of a second, scanning the room and all the strange faces in it. His eyes landed on Phoenix and Andy, who he gave a less than subtle squint at. He bounced in the seat to face his friend, who was still standing.

“How are you, dear Forkie?” She gave his shoulder a comforting pat.

“The military,” He began, “They’re everywhere- they’re swarming the city. It’s never been like this before. Not recently anyway- Hey who’s that guy in the corner? Why is he blue?”

Her pat changed to a swift smack. She really didn’t have the time to explain why you couldn’t just ask people that kind of thing. “His name is Son, don’t be rude to my work friends now.”

“Okay, it’s fine - I’m fine.” The man took in several less than fine inhales. “Do you know anything about what’s going on? I really need to know- my mom was screaming at me- telling me what I need to know- and what I should and shouldn't know and-”

“I believe I‘ve found my own copy of the flyer, but it seems to have been... Well, I hesitate to use the word, given it’s original state but... vandalized.” She meant that it somehow looked even worse than it did before. The rest of the party marveled at the young woman’s ability to understand anything the frantic man said. She took the flyer from her pocket and held it for him to see, but was quick to swipe it back when he reached for it. She was not going to lose her evidence to him.

“I just don’t get it!” Forkie exclaimed. “They all look hand drawn, and they were posted everywhere! Even the brick wall behind my house- You know? The one that’s like forty feet high? The whole thing was just plastered with them-”

“Do you know at what time they first appeared?” Jameson asked.

He shook his head. “They just popped up overnight.”

“Overnight? I find that hard to believe.” She looked down at him with a pout somewhere between disappointed and annoyed.

He reacted poorly to her expression. “No! No! I swear, I had to walk through that alley the evening before to go take care of my ma, and they weren’t there then- but they were in the morning- and the sirens were going off!”

“I see.” She nodded her head, taking down mental notes. “Is your mother alright with you being out and about while the sirens are going off?”

“Her? Oh, no she doesn’t really care. She’s just on the couch- day and night. She doesn’t really respond to anything I say anymore.” He frowned, but then snapped back to his weird quirky hyperactivity, suddenly fixating heavily on Andy. “BUT- it’s fine, I still love her very much.”

“Forkie, I think you should-”

“Hey- you there! Fellow with the one eye!” He pointed a finger directly at the man in the green jacket. Son in the corner was more concerned about this strangers sudden switch to a terrible irish accent then he was for the young man under scrutiny in front of him. “I know you from somewhere, right?”

The man’s one visible eye twitched. “No. I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” He quickly turned his back on the troll-like man, instead joining the giant in the corner. “Nosy little bastard.” He grumbled. The mercenary offered a shrug with some vague sympathy attached.

Luck remained on Andy’s side, Forkie blinked, seemingly forgetting the question he had just asked. “Forkie, you’re being rude. Stop scrutinizing my guests.”

The man attempted to stammer out a semi comprehendable apology, before he sped up again. “S-sorry! It’s just- five whole people that I’ve never met in your apartment.”

“Yes, because I have a social life outside of this building.”

He nodded his head in understanding. “That’s true, you’re never really here when I’m here, probably because you’re out socializing- REGARDLESS!” He snapped suddenly. “If you don’t know anything about this strange ‘Doctor Bearface’ I have information for you.” He paused for a moment, and let out a ‘Hmmm...’ There were very few things that had come out of this man's mouth that did not make at least half the room slightly concerned. Frankly, it sounded like he broke in here on a regular basis.

“Information on what?” Her attention was piqued beyond the polite amount she was giving him out of obligation. If this portained to an investigation, she would probably care just a bit more.

He slapped his own forehead. “I forgot!”

Before the girl in the blue coat could let out a sigh heavy enough to start a hurricane, Chastity slinked off the couch and over to the pair. “Excuse the interruption, hun. I couldn’t help but overhear that you might know a thing or two about this Bearface?” Despite the half a bottle of scotch she had downed in the past few minutes, she was portraying herself in a very composed manner. She leaned down over him with a smile. “Maybe something about a contract?”

“No I don’t, I know nothing- it’s why I’m here, I thought Jamie would know, because she usually knows, but she doesn’t so-” The kid wheezed and swooned slightly in his chair. “I mean our flyers seem to say different things. Yours says ‘experiment,’ mine says ‘robotic experiment,’ I saw a few that said ‘survivor,’ but I don’t understand what that means-”

Chastity rolled her eyes, “This kid is useless...” she slurred, returning to the couch.

“Oddly specific...” Jameson muttered to herself.

“Oh gosh! Jamie, I haven’t introduced myself to your guests yet!” He gave the room a mangled, snaggle-toothed smile. “My name is Little Fork!”

“Hello... Little Fork?” Al and Boxy chorused, making the smallest attempt at courtesy. 

Meanwhile, Son immediately spat out an impulsive “No, it is not.”

“That’s what they call me though!” He shot back, clearly ruffled. “That’s what everyone calls me - I don’t even remember what they called me before.”

“Why do they call you ‘Little Fork?’ Al asked, slightly curious.

“There was an incident that spawned the title at a dinner party when we were around fourteen. But that is very much a story for another day.” The young lady Grant explained. “Personally I prefer to call him ‘Forkie.’”

Little Fork suddenly jolted, causing his chair to bounce with him. “The information!” He cried out. “I remember now! Awful, it was awful! I was walking through that alleyway behind my house, you know the one with the brickwall - it has this window there, and the light bounces off it all nic-”

“Get on with it.” Son cut in from across the room, slowly but firmly.

“Right sorry- I was in the alley and- the other city... The other hub near here.”

“Oh... the garbage fire. The young woman folded her arms, visibly cringing. “New Pepper City...”

“Yes! New Pepper City! Over there! Someone told me they’ve finally done it! They made a cure for the virus!” The young man looked up at the girl, absolutely beaming.

“That’s impossible.” She shot back instantly, almost irritated, her face twitching into a non-committed scowl. “No could have done that.” 

“That’s what I thought too! But they told me - I heard them say it was done, and it was in New Pepper! In the alley, the man in the coat and hood told me about New Pepper City. I mean I’ve heard of the place, and I’d like to know more-”

“Oh Forkie, I don’t want to talk to you about New Pepper City.” Jameson’s face softened back to her complete neutral stare. “You might have a stroke.”

“No! No! I do want to hear about it! I want to know - I...I want to go there-”

“No you do not!” She snapped at him with a hiss, as close to yelling as she was able to get. “You do not want to go to that god forsaken, nightmare-”

“But the man told me that the cure was there! He told me I could give it to Ma- and Ma needs the cure. She needs it very badly-”

“I can bring it back to you.” The giant finally stood off the wall completely. Chastity snickered with laughter, _ Blue Waffles’ hero instincts were kicking in. _ Andy and Al shot him their own variations of pure confusion.

The Grant pressed her hands to her temples. “Oh my God...”

The gremlin man had the light in his eyes of a puppy. “Y-you’d do that for me and my ma? You would bring back a cure from New Pepper, to my ma? My dear ma!”

The mercenary shrugged. “I’ve taken the road there how many times?”

Jameson tsked at him. “We’ve both taken that road- we know what a dumpster fire the place is. There isn’t going to be anything there!”

“It was fine the last time we went through there together!”

Jameson raised her metallic hand out to him, “Was it?”

“It was fine for me!”

She threw her hands up in frustration, repeating her question with more bite. “Was it?!” She was terribly aware of what Son was hiding under his cloak.

“But you’ll go for my mother’s sake! My poor ma...she can’t get off the couch anymore- all she does is scream about what I need to know- and meat! Meat! ‘Take off the chains, son!’ MEAT!” The room was stunned into another silence. The kid had said a lot of weird shit since he walked in, but that was something else.

Al tried to offer his condolences first, ‘That sounds awful, I’m so sorry.’ But the words just wouldn’t come out at an audible level.

“Oh God... Forkie...” Jameson covered her own mouth for a moment, trying to collect herself from a revelation. “Why don’t you go downstairs and talk to my brother. Ask him for some more medicine, alright?”

It seemed like for the first time since he came in that the strange young man had actually spoken at a normal pace. “Oh, of course, right! Thank you Jamie!” He hopped up from his chair, and wrapped the girl in a tight, clearly unwelcome embrace. Over the girl’s shoulder, he focused again on the young man brooding by Son, periodically stealing glances at the man who had not once looked up from his teacup since Forkie had entered. “You know... you two, I think we’ve met somewhere before.”

“Unhand me,” Jameson wanted to hiss at him, but remained cordial as she wedged her metal hand between them.

“Oh right, sorry! Bye everyone!” He waved before seeing himself out the door.

“Bye Forkie!” Al called. He was the only person to do so.

The young lady Grant held a finger to her lips, signaling the room to be quiet for a short while longer. Once she was certain that Little Fork was gone, she asked, “Does anyone have a pen and paper? I need to write myself a reminder to go put his mother down.”

The mechanics eyes widened. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“She’s too far gone to a plague that turns it’s victims into killing machines, and doesn’t have a cure. It’s the right thing to do.” She responded, doing her best not to sound as cold as her words were.

“I’ve got a vape pen.” Chastity chimed in.

“That is not what I meant.” Jameson murmured, bringing Forkie’s chair back to it’s spot next to her bookshelf. Truth be told, she didn’t know that those things still existed, and she was genuinely impressed on the inside to be close to an artifact from better times.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Grant...” Andy began, “Who the hell was that?” He was curious - especially if he did actually know this off-putting guy from somewhere. He seemed to know Phoenix as well, which made the very collected man the slightest bit anxious given the previously established familiarity.

“A childhood friend. Well, he isn’t exactly a friend of mine, though he thinks we are. He’s more like a sadly endearing stalker that I grew up with. At the moment I consider him my older brother’s patient. As you may have noticed, he isn’t all there anymore, he needs all the help he can get.” She sulked across the room, and sank back into her armchair. “I don’t really like him, but in a terrible way, he reminds me of a sick puppy, and I can’t just leave him be in good conscience, especially after knowing him for so long.” 

The group gave understanding nods at the analogy. “I can see that.” Andy responded.

“Hm.” She reached for a tea, and took several sips, before scanning Phoenix, and then the

man with one eye. “He seemed interested in the two of you. Have you ever seen him before this?”

Andy shook his head. Phoenix spoke for the first time since introducing himself. “Not

that I can remember.”

“Where do we even go from here?” Andy looked to the giant. “I really doubt we can 

stay in First for much longer.”

“Well, Mister Hattori is heading to New Pepper City. They’ll be knocking on my door any day now, since they more than likely saw my face on the roof.” She grimaced, cracks in her demeanor showing. “Blue, would you mind if I tagged along with you until this nightmare blows over?”

He gave her a curt nod. “Strategically speaking, I think that would be for the best. We can lead an escort party straight there.”

She took a final sip of her tea, draining the cup completely. “That sounds delightful.” The negativity in her voice was clear to the room.

“Hopefully I can come back with both arms attached this time.” He sensed her frustration, and attempted a joke. The comment seemed to leave the rest of the room confused and startled.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?” Jameson scoffed as she placed the cup back on the table.

He gave a smug grin, before he unscrewed his right index finger from his hand for the room to see. “Oh I absolutely do.”

“Is that a bio-implant, or just a mechanical arm?” Andy narrowed his eye at the finger as it was reattached.

“Just mechanical, nothing too fancy.” He rolled up his sleeve so the other man could see the metal plating.

Chastity snapped her fingers in sudden realization. “Hey, Kitten? Do you have a phone in here?” With all the other fancy crap she had, there was a fairly good chance that she did.

‘Kitten’ shook her head, after realizing that was the name this woman seemed intent on calling her. “Phone lines aren’t exactly...up around here. I’ve got a semi functional two way radio by the window, if you think that would work.”

“Well shit, sweetheart! How else am I gonna cancel my next client?” She really probably shouldn’t be seeing anyone with the military chasing her. It was hard enough to keep appointments as is. She stood from the couch and turned to Al. “Think you could help me set it up, Sugarbear?”

The man rose after her, sliding Boxy into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I’ll see what I can do.”

While those two set about finding a working signal, the giant and the man with one eye took to chatting about body augmentations. Jameson rose to collect the tea tray, as well as the pot, saucers and cups. Andy and Al had left theirs on the table. Son never came close enough to get the cup she had set out for him. Phoenix placed his on the tray for her.

“You didn’t drink any.” She pointed out to him.

“Nope. I was just playing with the steam.” With the cup gone, he began to pick at his nails with incredible attention. “It’s cooled down now.”

Jamie thought to ask about what that was supposed to mean, but decided against it. It was not the weirdest thing she had encountered today by any means. She brought all the little dishes to the kitchen. Her return to the sitting area was accompanied by some small cheers from the two people by the radio, which had crackled to life. “That old thing sounds like it has a stable signal.”

“Heck yeah it does!” Al handed the receiver over to Chastity. “Try it out.”

The woman punched in a few buttons, happy she wouldn’t ghost her client, when suddenly a static began to buzz, followed by a high pitched screeching. She dropped it in response, surprised by the noise to say the least. The fall didn’t stop the ear piercing noise at all.

“Someone make it shut up!” Son yelled over the sound. Reflexively, Chastity grabbed the whip off her belt, unfurled it, and used it to smack the receiver without hesitation. The radio fell silent when the leather cracked against it. The giant was surprised, but impressed. “That’s a radio that knows it’s place.” The woman nodded, recoiling her whip.

He may have spoken to soon. The radio began to buzz again, but this time much softer. It seemed the volume had lowered quite a bit, but a stern voice emanated from it clearly to the room. “These are the six names we’re looking for. If you know anything about these fugitives, report them to the nearest military outpost immediately. I REPEAT, again, these six fugitives. Jameson Grant. Son Hattori. Phoenix the Arsonist. The escort, Chastity. Andy Caslin. And lastly, Al Clements. If you have seen, or know anything about these six individuals, repor-” The broadcast then cut out.

“Hey, that was us.” Al looked up from the radio to the others. “That’s not good.”

“I’m gonna go ahead and say we should probably get the fuck out of here as soon as physically possible.” Andy told them. He felt like he was saying that a lot today. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He really hoped that this trend would end soon. He turned to Jameson. “You don’t happen to have any spare supplies we can take, do you?”

The young woman frowned. “I don’t suppose my father’s connections will get me out of this one...everyone, you’re more than welcome to grab whatever you think is necessary. I’ll replace what I can later.” She made a beeline to a door at the back wall. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to grab some extra ammunition.” What little anyone could see into the room revealed an armory of epic proportion.

The rest of the group went into an absolute scramble. Chastity’s strategy seemed to be grabbing the first thing she saw each time she turned her head. First it was a bottle of scotch, then a fashion magazine on a decorative table, and finally a latex party balloon she found in said table, which she promptly stuffed down her bra for safe keeping.

“Al?” Son made his way over to the mechanic. “Is there any chance they could track us through that thing?”

The man nodded. “It’s like a ninety-ten shot we don’t get caught from it. But whatever happens happens, that’s life.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Without another word the mercenary took the receiver and transponder in each hand, tossing them into the air, he drew one of his three blades, slicing them clean through. However, Son’s strike was so powerful the halves soon crumbled to ash once they hit the ground. He pursed his lips and looked to the mechanic. “They can’t track dust, right?”

“Nah, we’re good.”

While that was happening, Andy had ransacked a coat closet by the door, finding several backpacks and duffle bags within. He went about tossing them to whoever he thought would actually use them...so everyone except for the escort. He kept the newest model of the Spatial Warping Storage duffle for himself. He was really struggling to contain himself. He had the opportunity to take anything that wasn’t nailed down - he could have pawned so much of this stuff off - but he kept it to essentials for the most part. He usually didn’t give much of a shit about the blue bloods, but the idea of wronging this one in particular left a very bad taste in his mouth. After distributing bags he returned to the closet where he found a hand mirror, a lantern and a tarp. After digging through a few coat pockets, he found a compass and some pepper spray, as well as a matchbox. He then turned his sights on the kitchen, wanting to get there before the others did.

It seemed Phoenix had beaten him to the punch, but he was very preoccupied with something underneath the sink. Andy picked up the fire extinguisher and first aid kit the man in black had tossed on the floor. He made his way to the stove area, grabbing a frying pan and a few steak knives. A note left on the countertop caught his eye, or rather what was on top of it. Fifty bucks, just sitting there. He slipped the papers into the bag. A Grant wouldn’t notice an amount like that going missing. He turned his attention to a line of canteens above the sink. “You aren’t disconnecting the pipes, are you?” He asked Phoenix. He received a grunt that he thought meant ‘no’ in response. He began to fill the canteens with water, grabbing what appeared to be a spare water filter behind the faucet. The man with red eyes finally got out from under the sink clutching an entire propane tank in his arms. Andy made direct eye contact with him as he struggled to stuff it into the Spatial Warp backpack he had given him.

Jameson emerged from her armory with a satchel of her own filled with bullets and cleaning supplies for the two revolvers up her sleeves. She left her brother a note on her desk explaining her circumstances. She hoped he would find it and not lose any sleep over her sudden disappearance. Her pockets jingled and clanked with every step she took. She made her way to her bookshelf. On the tips of her toes she pulled down a wooden box with a round edge ‘+’ sign carved into it. She peeked inside, and found the amount of gauze rolls in it to be acceptable. She dropped it into the void of her bag. With that out of the way, she began browsing her humble collection of literature. A good book was always a welcome travel companion. She eventually decided on a Shakespeare anthology, as well as copies of Frankenstein and Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Nice edgy aristocrat literature! If only this girl lived in a world where Halloween was still a thing - she’d probably be much happier. The girl trailed after Son and Al, who had finished scrapping whatever was left of the radio for parts, into the kitchen where it seemed Andy and Phoenix’s staring contest had ended. The latter was throwing dishcloths into his bag, while the former had taken on the strategy of opening cabinets and sweeping whatever was in them into his bag. Jameson mimicked this specifically for her tea collection, but also for some non perishables, while the blue man kept pulling a borderline comical number of canteens from under his cloak to fill while he pulled an equally absurd number of canned goods in. The girl narrowed her eyes as she looked over her kitchen. She could have sworn she had left a letter in the room.

The thought was lost to the girl as the front door slammed open. “Jamie, oh my gosh!” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they realized it was just Forkie again, panting even harder than last time. “They’recomingIheardontheradio!They’recomingtogetyouJamie!!”

“Forkie, Forkie...” The young woman in question stepped out of the kitchen to go soothe him. “We know. We’re getting ready to leave now.”

“They’re around the corner!” He gasped. “You need to go now! I know a way out of First- they won’t look there- it’s a shortcut.”

“Forkie...please don’t take this the wrong way but...I don’t think I trust you with that kind of thing.” The men in the kitchen had followed Jameson out at that point. “You hardly ever leave this street.”

“You don’t understand, I have! Sometimes I just- I needed to get out and I found a short cut near here! And I can take you there, and I can get you out! You can’t go out a main exit, but this one is underground!” The gremlin like man seemed to be vibrating in excitement. Yes, you read that correctly. Not shaking. Boy was straight up vibrating.

“He’s either batshit, or he knows what he’s on about.” Son looked down at his fellow mercenary. “Which is it?”

“Blue, I have known this man for years. I do not like where this is going.”

Little Fork wrung his hands. “Jamie please! You gotta trust me! I know my way around! You might know the outside - but I know the inside better than anyone.” His tone almost had a pinch of menace, or maybe something closer to prideful malice. “I have been cooped up in this motherfucking city- for- YEARS.”

The young lady Grant’s eyes widened at the sudden foul language.

“Please!”

“I’ll put it to a vote.” She told him quietly. “All in favor of following my quirky childhood friend through god knows where, say ‘aye.’” She was met by the entire room affirming the option. Trying to contain a scream she probably wasn’t physically capable of producing, she turned to Forkie. “The ‘ayes’ have it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE PAUSE AS THE GROUP BEGINS TO BOOK IT OUT OF JAMIE’S APARTMENT, WONDERING IF FORKIE IS WORTH TRUSTING.
> 
> WILL OUR HEROES MAKE IT OUT OF FIRST CITY ALIVE? FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON FATE CORE!


	3. In the Sewer to New Pepper City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST TIME ON FATE CORE...
> 
> Fleeing from the militia, the band of strangers attempt to hop from building to building, many of them stumbling in the process. The group is joined by a mysterious man named ‘Phoenix,’ and Andy seems to unintentionally exhibit a strange luck phenomenon that surrounds him. When this cabal of absurdity is all but cornered by military helicopters, an azure hero appears! The three katana warrior, Son Hattori! Chopping the copter in half, he buys everyone enough time to escape to Jameson Grant’s apartment. It is there that the group introduces themselves to each other, realizing from a radio broadcast that they are being hunted for their newfound connection to this ‘Doctor Bearface,’ and that it may be wise to stick together in these strange circumstances. The group is informed by Jameson’s childhood friend, Forkie, of a possible cure for the rampant zombie virus, and a chance of escape in New Pepper City - a choice which puts the young Grant on edge, and stirs up mixed emotions in Son. He believes it morally upright to go for the cure, but is wary because of an arm-based incident. With the military on their trail, and nowhere else to turn, the group agrees to follow the eccentric Forkie to a way out of First City.
> 
> Can this strange Forkie be trusted? Is there really a cure to the virus in New Pepper City? Just what happened to the mercenaries that caused them to be so concerned by New Pepper? How did Andy manage to stuff so much stolen shit into a duffle bag?
> 
> Find out now, on this exciting episode of FATE CORE!

No one in the party had any initial misgivings about following Little Fork out of the city aside from Jameson. Any type of escape was better than the alternative that would more than likely face them, should they be captured by the semi-authoritarian military - and this road to New Pepper City may have been less hazardous all around! They were not particularly troubled when the fidgety individual led them to a manhole cover, and they cringed but nodded in understanding when he instructed them to start walking in the sludge at the bottom.

That was two hours ago - and now they were really starting to regret their choices. Ankle deep in a substance unholy, and on a seemingly endless march to god knows where. Their only solace was that they were hidden from the sounds of tanks, and helicopters, and soldiers, storming above them, themselves being the target for the largest manhunt the First City Government had staged in years.

Son and Jameson, the latter of which had been gracious enough not to say ‘I told you so,’ occupied themselves with some friendly banter for a short while, desperate to replace the sounds of sewage splashing and squelching beneath their feet with literally anything else. “Well, uh... this route is going to be fun.” The blue man began.

“I honestly think, God as my witness, that I would have rather taken the street route.” She turned up to her tall companion, the air forcing her voice to strain, “You know - the path with all the corpses strewn about? At the very least that way is famili-” The young lady was cut off as her childhood friend stepped between them, grabbing onto her arm.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! No you can’t go that way, its dangerous! We’re going this way - it’s safer - honest! I come through here all the time!”

“That explains the smell...” Son squinted down at the man, who hadn’t seemed to have caught the obvious insult.

“Really, it hasn’t been used that much for years! It’s practically cleaned itself out because it keeps flowing - I don’t know where it comes from, but its somewhere, I guess!” 

Jameson gently wormed her arm out of Forkie’s grasp. “Blue, don’t antagonize him...”

The giant looked down and away from the girl’s disappointed face, and mumbled out an apology. “I’m just a little on edge, considering what  _ fuckin’ happened last time _ .”

The girl let out a small chortle. “Taking all bets, everyone! Who do you think is going to lose an arm going this way first?”

Son laughed, it was probably going to be him. Laughing is supposed to dull the pain. It didn’t this time, but he gets an A for effort.

“Hopefully none of us...” Al Clements, that poor man, responded. “But... whatever happens happens?”

“Trust me, its common going to New Pepper.” Jameson said with a smile - as though what she had said was a pleasant remark.

The giant nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We’re kinda two for two on that.”

Al also nodded, but in discomfort. “I hope its not me... I need my arms for work...”

“What?!” Forkie clung to the young Grant again. “I’ve never heard about this! When did this happen?!”

She suppressed an eye roll. “You know how I don’t have an arm?”

“And I don’t either-” Son cut in.

“You’ve never told me this story, as long as I’ve known you!” Little Fork maintained.

“Forkie, I have had a metal arm for several years now. You know all about it.”

“I-I- Well- I- I just thought it was personal!”

Jameson let out a wheeze of a laugh. “Not at all! Son, would you like to tell our tale to pass the time?”

“Hell yeah~!” The giant man clapped his hands together, sending a boom echoing down the sewer corridor. “I’m always down for storytime.”

“Marvelous!” Mirroring her blue companion, the young lady also clasped her hands, just without a massive sound, freeing herself from Little Fork’s grip. “Well, when I was fifteen years old I decided I wanted to be a mercenary, and around that time my older brother was running low on medical supplies, and needed to go to New Pepper City to pick up some materials. So I said, ‘Of course, my dear brother, I could easily bring you there and back!’” She then rolled up her sleeve as far as the mass of fabric would allow her to, revealing a full forearm of metal lines, riveted together in the shape of muscles and joints. “And then on the way home, I was attacked!” She tapped the metal with her opposite hand, resulting in a small series of  _ ‘Tink, tink, tink.’ _ “My brother had to saw my arm off, and Son lost an arm trying to keep a hoard of infected 8-Hands members away from us while he did so.” She brought her sleeve back down, looking back to the swordsman. She dropped her annoyed look she had been giving Forkie, her face turning to a pensive frown. “I do apologize for that, my friend.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, Miss Grant. It was smart of your brother to hire me - I was new to the business too, but not as new as you, and I’m definitely a better bullet shield than you are.” He curled his traveler's cloak tighter around himself. “If you ever happen to see the right side of my body though, _ I’m sorry.” _

“Henrik did patch you up the best he could...”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, your brother did a damn good job.” He gave his right hip a few pats. “I actually have feeling about thirty percent of the time!”

Jameson visibly perked, “Oh my, that's quite an improvement!”

“I understand,” Little Fork nodded, although his eyes were widening quite a bit. “That-that sounds traumatic... Sometimes we don’t- Sometimes we don’t leave with all our body parts intact...”

“Don’t worry too much, Forkie. I’m pretty much over it anyway.” Jamie smiled at him, looking decidedly less annoyed than she had earlier.

His lips curled up slightly, relaxing a small bit, but he quickly shifted gears, “Oh! Oh~! We’re almost there! It’s just up ahead!” As the suddenly twitchy man rushed forward, those who had not partaken much in the conversation were letting everything they heard sink in. Chastity wasn’t really paying attention, and neither was Phoenix, who was idly opening and closing a lighter repeatedly. Andy and Al on the other hand were more troubled. Andy had frankly been through more than enough in the past 24 hours; he had been chased by ninjas, accosted by a bear man, and watched an oversized smurf chop a helicopter in half, he  _ really _ didn’t need to add losing a limb to an already zainy list of suffering. This was going to be a hell of a story to tell Sal, if and when he saw him again, at least. Alphonse Clements on the other hand adjusted the brim of his hat over his eyes, trying to avoid eye contact with the people who were probably going to get him killed. He instead tried his best to think of more pleasant things, like his shop, and his customers, and that really nice old lady who started bringing him cookies after he had fixed an old world blender for her. This stopped as soon as he remembered he had left a few lights on, and his electricity bill was going to be absurd.

Little Fork continued his mad dash forward about two hundred feet before screeching to a sudden halt. “W-wait a minute, this wasn’t - this wasn’t here before!” He had stopped before a platform at the end of the corridor, water leaking from two tubes on either side of him. Beyond that was a staircase - a clear exit! But before that was a mass of debris reaching the ceiling, and some sort of glowing wall beside it, closing any potential openings through the junk heap. “This-This- Gah!” Forkie slapped his leg, irritated. “I should have known! This city is on full alert! They must have turned on the back up systems...”

“Back up systems..?” The giant probed, catching up to the gremlin man easily.

“This used to be a military pathway used for covert operations - they didn’t want people knowing about it very much... so- so you know- the shimmering wall...”

Jameson raised an eyebrow, as she and the rest of the party caught up. “How do you know about it then?”

“Agh! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I thought this would work!” Forkie seemed to ignore her question entirely. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do now!”

“Well, we’re sure as shit not turning back.” Andy crossed his arms. This day was truly a colossal waste of his time and energy. “I’m not walking through the sewers for another two hours. We should at least try to see if we can deactivate it.” It was a decent course of action, though no one present had ever seen anything like this before.

“Want to try throwing something at it?” Son asked.

“Absolutely not!” Jamie and Andy chorused. “Throwing something at it might set off an alarm or something.” The young man followed up. The giant nodded, folding his hands together so he wasn’t tempted to pick up a rock and YEET it at the forcefield as hard as he could.

The young Grant scanned the surrounding walls. “There may be a computer panel near-by that could deactivate it.” With nothing obvious nearby, she turned her attention to the other side of the shimmering wall. It strained her vision to look, distorting what was behind it like running water. She stepped up towards the curtain, not even hearing a slight buzz from it. She cautiously raised her metal hand up, and attempted to rest it on the light. Discovering she wasn’t on fire, or being electrocuted, or dying, she pressed the slightest bit harder, but was unable to pass through. A series of small ripples emanated from where her hand lay throughout the entire field, revealing a small square hole in the top right corner, eight feet in the air, unaffected by the shimmer. “Interesting...” Everyone’s gaze followed hers to the opening. “Do we have anything small and square shaped on us?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Al said, producing Boxy from his hoodie pocket. He nudged Son’s arm. “Would you mind getting my little buddy up there?” The seven foot tall blue man gave him a thumbs up, scooping the mechanical friend into his hand. He flexed his palm flat, and lifted the box up to the hole. Boxy hopped down to the other side in a perfect ten, and everyone was very happy for him. “Alright bud, see if there's a panel over there!” The little box began scurrying around on his cable feet, poking around corners until he found what appeared to be a control panel. He rose his tethers upward, and lifted himself onto the panel. Most of the controls were perfectly intact, with the exception of a bright red button that said ‘OFF,’ which seemed to be pushed down all the way, and was cracked in half. 

Andy’s eyes narrowed, he took a few steps back towards Chastity, who was spacing out a fairly safe distance away, and was soon joined by Al, who found his precaution important enough to mimic.

Boxy let out a series of thoughtful beeps, before wrapping a tether around the button, and yanking it upward, freeing it with a ‘POP.’ Jameson immediately dove out of the way, the forcefield beneath her hand suddenly disappearing following a ripple of electricity across it. Her back pressed against the nearest wall, she watched Son grab Forkie by the back of his collar and dash backwards from the debris pile falling right where they had all been standing, Forkie letting out a pathetic “Agh-!” Phoenix joined her at the wall - she hadn’t really been paying him any attention, he must have been closer to the force field than she had realized. The two were lightly pelted with some smaller rocks, but were otherwise unscathed.

“We-well, I uh... Guess- I guess that's new but...” His chest heaving as the rumbling and tumbling subsided, Forkie straightened himself up, and got the back of his shirt out of Son’s hand. “Let’s just... keep going - keep going, it’s pretty simple from here on out!” 

The group reluctantly made their way up the newly unblocked staircase, Boxy climbing his way back into Al’s pocket. “You did so good buddy, just give us a bit more warning next time!” Forkie trailed behind everyone, apparently realizing most of the groups patience with him was somewhat waning. The room they found themselves in was a somewhat plain corridor, and at the end of it, another door. The ease of crossing it was oddly suspicious to the few who had already started.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, things went downhill instantly as Forkie crossed the threshold by tripping with a loud “FUCK!” The room began to shake, some debris falling from above. This was followed by a deafening, horrendous cracking noise, and then a screeching, as the air was being brutally torn apart by the entire ceiling coming down. As everyone’s life flashed before their eyes, Son Hattori, much like an excited twelve year old catching a pop fly in a long forgotten game called out, “I got it! I got it!” He lifted his arms above his head with a slight bend, and caught the incoming roof with a grunt. The group looked up at him in awe as his posture straightened, and with him, the bucklings slab of debris rose.

“Good... God...” Jameson wheezed out. She had never seen him do anything like this before.

“Aw, fuck yeah, Blue Waffle!” Chastity took out her scotch, and gave a celebratory swig.

“Get moving you bastards!” He grunted, this was a lot less amusing than he initially anticipated, “I can’t hold this thing forever!”

Without a second thought, Phoenix and Jameson dashed forward. Sadly, Jamie forgot she wasn’t exactly able to run much these days. Her pace slowed as she tried to catch her breath, failing to notice a smaller chunk of rock. She tripped over it, onto her hands and knees. The shock of the fall more or less made her start hacking up a lung. Phoenix skid with a small ‘Whoops,’ and doubled back around to grab the girl, who he dragged to the stable threshold on the other side of the room where she could cough herself back to stability.

Al had seen the relative success of the first two, and was about to start sprinting after them when another chunk of rocks broke away from the ceiling and conked him on the back, sending him sprawling forward. Forkie didn’t fair much better, and dragged himself in a crawl towards the mechanics side. Chastity, no different from usual, was quite inebriated, and didn’t appear to be able to stay standing long enough to bring herself to the other side of the room without assistance - and Son could see that. Fearing for his co-workers safety, in a moment of pure brilliance, and the power of friendship, he threw the ceiling into the air with an ‘ORA!’ He dashed forward, whacking Chastity in the spine with a second ‘ORA!’ sending her hurtling across the room, nearly to the door, and catching the roof again with a third ‘ORA!’ Pain shot out through Chastity’s body, temporarily immobilizing her, but at the very least her scotch was unharmed.

Andy had watched the shit show before him with a relatively straight face, but on the inside he was laughing. He was laughing so hard. He had never been so happy to see another human being bitch slapped fifty feet across a room before. The sheer volume of dopamine in his brain had inspired him - giving him hope he didn’t know he could still feel. He took a deep breath and ran, strafing through falling chunks, sliding under some, and leaping over the others. Ten feet from the door a massive rock landed in front of him. In a refusal to lose his momentum, he vaulted off the rock, tucking himself into a front flip, and landing into the doorway in a slide. He locked eyes with Phoenix, who gave him a respectful nod of acknowledgement for the absolutely fucking sick stunt work. He then turned to Jameson propped up against a wall, who was coughing into a white cloth that he assumed Phoenix had given her. “Nice- Flip-” She wheezed between hacks.

“Thanks.”

Meanwhile back in the danger zone, Son realized he would need to move forward again. He watched as Forkie and Al crawled past him slowly, pathetically. A strained groan escaped his throat. Those two really needed to move faster- he needed to move faster. He inched their way, sliding his hands along the ceiling. “Get up!” He barked. As he did so, a large chunk of roofing fell behind the three, prompting Al to let out a shriek of fear. This whole journey was definitely going to traumatize him for life - and this was only the beginning. This new found fear however, did inspire him to get on his feet. He managed a pathetic stumble forward, and in the last twenty feet, Andy took pity on him and came out from the sheltering doorway to help stabilize him. Out of whatever kindness or sympathy was in his heart, Andy also reached down and grabbed Chastity by the wrist, pulling the two to safety.

Son turned his attention back down to Forkie, the last thing in his way before he could get himself out of this mess. This mess- this mess- this fucking mess that this little shit got them in. “You...” He hissed downwards. He could feel every single fiber of his body burning - it was one of those rare thirty percent times. They totally could have taken the street route, it would have been fine. Son took a deep breath. They could have easily been stealthy and gotten out fine. Hell, even at the gate Jameson probably could have bribed the guards to just let them out. It would have been fine. It could have been fine. It _should_ have been fine. He looked at the group in the doorway, watching him with worry. He locked eyes with Jamie. The poor kid was damn near coughing up blood, and she was still more worried about him. The swordsman felt something inside him snap. “You stupid... god damn...” Son gnawed the inside of his cheek as he glared down at this fucking gremlin of a man- who was taking his sweet fucking time. This was an anger he hadn’t felt in months - years even! Son felt a genuine, hateful growl in his throat. Was this little shit even trying?! “I won’t die...” He took a heavy step towards Forkie. “I won’t die because of this...” A pit was growing inside of Son’s stomach, composed of pure rage. “Do you fucking hear me?!” He screamed at the cowering young man. “Get your sorry ass moving!” In a fit of rage, he lifted the ceiling higher, and delivered Forkie a swift kick, propelling the man forward. “There are people who need me right now!” He trailed after him, balancing the debris on one hand at a time so he could walk forward to kick the boy again. “So get _fucking_ ** _moving!_** ” With a cry of strength, Son sweep kicked Forkie so hard, the boy went flying through the doorway, rolling to a stop safely in the next room.

Son’s chest heaved rapidly. He was the last person in danger. Everyone was safe. But holy shit, was his blood pressure through the fucking roof. He continued the juggling of the ceiling between his arms, slowly making his way forward. It seemed even more stone, and whatever else was above this tunnel was piling above the slab he was holding. He was so close to the exit. Maybe another ten feet? One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. That’s all he had to do. He took another few deep breaths. His vision was blurring, and he wasn’t sure if it was the physical strain, or the anger. It was likely a combination of both. His steps were slowing down. But he was close. He could see Andy, leaning out the doorway, reaching out to him. 

There was only one way he was going to make it. “I’m gonna throw it.” He grunted.

“What?” Andy wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly.

“Gonna-” He braced his body. “Throw-”

“Holy shi-” The one eyed man hardly had time to be shocked as the giant pressed the ceiling into the air with a final, tremendous ‘ **ORA,** ’ and catapulted himself forward. Andy composed himself quickly as Son grabbed his outstretched hand. He yanked the blue man into the room, a split second later the ceiling crashing down, blocking the doorway. The new room they found themselves in shook violently upon impact, but otherwise held steady.

Son collapsed under his own weight, forcing Andy to lower him to the ground. “Th-that... that hurt...” He sputtered.

“Are you gonna be oka-”

“Probably.” Son cut off the concern. He would be okay physically after a little while. But mentally? Yeah, he definitely hadn’t been that stressed for quite some time...

“Bless your heart, Blue.” Oh good, Jameson was alright. She took a knee next to him, tucking the cloth she was hacking into in her pocket. It didn’t look like there was any blood on it - always a good sign. “Someone get this man an Advil!”

Forkie crawled his way over to him. “Thank- thank you Mister Hattori! I-I’m so sorry I just froze- I don’t-”

“Don’t sweat it, kid. We got out of there, that's what matters.” He weakly waved the boy out of his face. He definitely had nothing helpful to contribute. And he still smelled terrible. “Anyway, Advil please..?”

“Give me one too!” Chastity groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. Oh yeah, Son karate chopped her across a room... “I feel like a just drank a whole keg solo...”

“Here.” Andy dug into his bag, his ‘ **_Sack of Wonder_ ** ’ as it were, and produced a bottle, curling two pills each into their hands. No way someone like him had that lying around. He had to have taken that from the Grant’s apartment. Good on him for grabbing it then.

“Do you...” Al stared at the spatial warping bag for a moment. “Do you have like... a bagel or something in there..?”

Andy stared back at him, more than a little confused. “N-... no?” Al nodded. Yeah, he was definitely feeling that trauma building up. He had the oddest feeling there wouldn’t be much comfort food in the near future. “Anyway... We should probably keep moving.”

Much to everyone’s dismay, Andy was right.

  
  


The group was given about ten minutes to get their bearings. Jamie got her lungs back in order, Al played with Boxy until his heart rate went down, Chastity took her advil with some scotch (Ill advised, do not try this at home), Son waited for the parts of his blood that he could feel to stop hurting, and the rest of the gang thought long and hard about their life choices.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mister Phoenix.” Jameson addressed the darkly dressed man she walked besides, trying to get some kind of tell out of the man for her to read.

“No problem.” The man replied, not even glancing over at her, quickly killing the conversation as the group walked into yet another suspiciously empty and sound room. It felt... Blank. The walls were white, almost blindingly so, not a single particle of dust was in the air. It was clean... too clean. And there was no exit.

“Now, I’ve seen a Red Room, but I’ve never seen a White Room!” Chastity quipped with a grin.

“You, shut up!” Andy snapped in response. He silently wished that giant freak had knocked her out in the previous room so he didn’t have to deal with any more innuendo. 

The young lady Grant shook her head disapprovingly, though she quickly switched her focus to the matter at hand. “Is there a way out of this room or..?” She quickly scanned the room. It seemed the only exit to the room was the one they had come through - which had a tremendous amount of rubble in front of it.

Son followed her eyes to the way they came. “I want to make this abundantly clear, right now, so that no one asks me to... I am not lifting that ceiling again.” He spoke with calmness, but there was a detectable amount of seething rage underneath it all.

“I certainly wouldn’t ask you to, Blue. We all ought to take a closer look around first, at least...” Jameson set out to examine the far wall of the room, arguably the most qualified in the room for detective work - Observing the flooring for any scrape marks, attempting to feel a draft from somewhere, tapping the walls for hollow sounds. Much to her well hidden frustration, she wasn’t finding anything. She let out a disappointed  _ ‘tsk _ ,’ and started tapping the wall again, just to see if she missed a spot.

Phoenix looked down at his feet as he paced the room, pretending to be productive, and bored with this room compared to the pure adrenaline rush the previous hallway had given him. He raised his eyebrows as he spotted something with a coppery shine on the ground. He bent to pick it up, pleasantly surprised to find a penny, which he quietly, and happily pocketed. Maybe it was his lucky day, and the penny was a sign that he wasn’t going to die trapped down here in a room full of complete strangers that he followed from a burning Denny’s! 

The poor man didn’t realize the penny was actually face down, which meant it was bad luck. But this was only a harbinger of things to come...

Andy watched Jameson make a third lap down the wall with her tapping method, he saw her mechanical fingers twitch with frustration as she seemed to turn up empty handed again. He sighed and brushed some hair away from his eye patch. This was definitely gonna suck, but maybe this task didn’t need a sluth to find a hidden passage, it needed a thief to find an escape route. He dragged the patch across his face, and onto his brown eye, revealing a blue eye in the center of the red scarring on the left side of his head. The sudden explosion of color that met his enhanced vision almost burned. Floor to ceiling, all the walls were painted with an iridescent splash. Like a unicorn on psychedelics had vomited on them. He tried not to squint. He gave the room his own once over, and stopped again on the girl in blue, apparently on tapping round four. Just above her, the colors appeared to pop out, as though it was three dimensional - though it appeared the same way the effect would without 3-D glasses. “Hey, Miss Grant? A little bit to the right.”

“Hm?” She turned to face him. “Oh! An eye implant?”

“Could you move over? I think there’s something behind you...” She obliged his request. His eye widened as he realized it was text - Five words long. 

“What do you see?” Jameson walked to his position in the room, trying to mimic his eye line to see if anything could magically appear for her. Nothing did, but it was worth a shot.

“There’s weird shit all over the walls, but there, about two thirds up the wall - kinda blurry, like it’s from a busted projector,” He pointed for her, “It says ‘The Necklace Says the Forbidden.’”

“Is it written in some kind of invisible ink, or a paint?” The mercenary asked.

The young man blinked (or rather, winked) a few times in an attempt to focus harder. “I don’t... It’s hard to say. It looks like paint, but it’s also really... digital looking.”

“Like text on a screen?” Son piped up.

Andy shrugged. “You’re like seven feet tall, right? I can get on your shoulders and take a closer look I guess?”

“I-I-I- I don’t know why you would - why you would want to do that!” Son was unable to answer for himself as Forkie cut in.

“Look kiddo - if you’ve got any better ideas, let's hear it!” Chastity let out a snort of laughter. “I’m just sayin’, human pyramid, or go home!” Everyone frowned. They couldn’t go home with the military looking for them - and Son sure as shit had no interest in picking up the ceiling remains.

“If we can figure out what this necklace is... it may be a passcode, and saying it may reveal a door?” Jameson offered.

“Is anyone wearing a necklace or something?” Son looked at everyone in the room. There was not much jewelry visibly present on anyone. The escort wasn’t even wearing so much as a choker or a bracelet.

The girl in blue brought a hand to her neck, dragging her fingers against the gauze. “I suppose I’m wearing bandages on my-” Her pupils shrank to needle points as her lips parted in what appeared to be shock. “Mister Caslin, how do you spell ‘necklace’?”

“Uhh...” Andy took a second to process the question “The way it’s spelt on the wall?”

“And how does the wall spell it?” She asked sharply.

Suddenly, the rogue felt like he was on trial. He once more narrowed his bio-implant eye at the text. “N-E-C-K-L-E-S-S.”

“Neck-less, as in without a neck, not necklace, as in jewelry.” Son more or less reiterated everyone's sudden realization.

The one-eyed man cleared his throat. He knew he wasn’t the best speller, only making it to the fifth grade and all, but other people didn’t need to know that. Meanwhile, he certainly knew the Grant girl was missing a chunk of her neck, and he really wished he didn’t.

“I... feel personally attacked.” Jamie stopped fidgeting with her bandages, and instead rested her hand over her heart, attempting to mask her growing discomfort with proper indignation. This was insulting, and also terrifyingly suspicious.

“Oh shit, it’s talking about you, Kitten!” Chastity exclaimed, not quite grasping the implications of what she had pointed out.

Again, the only thing compromising the young lady Grant’s affronted composure were her pinprick pupils. She swallowed heavily, lowering her head to her high collar so that no one could see it. Someone made this room to toy with her...

. “Th-these passages have always been slightly weird the times - the times I’ve come through.” Little Fork began, “The rooms are different, I don’t... I don’t know... It was always the same thing for me. This is new - this is new to me. I’m- I’m sorry Jamie! I didn’t know!”

Jameson could feel her heart beating more and more rapidly, even through the heavy frock coat. Whoever did this would have had to know about Caslin’s other eye...

“There’s something we have to consider...” Son seemed to be drawing the same conclusion as her. “This room was only visible with Andy’s eye - and that last room? I don’t think anyone except one of my people could have done that. It’s almost like they’re leaving traps for us.”

The young mercenary's mechanical fingers twitched. How could she not have realized that the falling ceiling wasn’t a coincidence? They hadn’t heard the rumble of the First Militia after they had climbed the staircase - so what else could have triggered a collapse like that if it wasn’t planned? And why did it only happen after Forkie walked in-

_ Forkie. _

Jameson finally poked her head out of her coat, and turned to her old companion. “What did you bring us into..?” She tried her best to swallow her frustration with him, and her growing fear. Yelling at him wouldn’t help. Accusing him wouldn’t help. Her only grace was whatever calm perception of her this impossible boy had.

“It-Its usually fine!” He exclaimed, “Normally - no- normally when I come through it does a scan - wi- with a scanner!” 

“Changing rooms? And a scanner? Shouldn’t you have mentioned this stuff earlier?” Phoenix prodded with possibly the longest series of words he had uttered yet to this group. He did not glare at the gremlin, but there was suspicion in his gaze.

“It’s never changed!” Little Fork fired back. He brought his hands up to his temples, feeling a sudden pounding in his head. “It’s never done - done this before! I don’t know- I don’t know what's going on!”

“Just calm down.” Andy rolled his bio-implant eye. He didn’t feel like dealing with this twitchy gremlin’s impending freakout at all. “What does this room normally do? What does it scan?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know...” Forkie repeated. “It just scans you. It does a full body scan, that’s all it ever does... I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

Andy found the pity to suppress a second eye roll. “Maybe we just have to activate the scanner again?”

Forkie shook his head. “It would have been in the room before, but the ceiling fell. So... whatever this room wants Jamie to do might be our only way out.”

Jameson had spent this uncharacteristically quiet time burrowing her face further and further into her wool collar. _ Forbidden. _ What exactly was forbidden to the General specifically. Breathing normally? Having a right arm? Swearing?

_ Swearing. _

Her eyes narrowed in disgust. Jameson Grant was a lot of things - but foul-mouthed was not one of them. There were a lot of cuss words she found so egregious she had banned herself from uttering them, lest she upset her parents expectations. She tries to be a good kid - a proper lady. People usually tell her she is. She glanced at the rest of the group, still refusing to emerge from her jacket, and she watched the group futility try to pry information out of an increasingly distressed Forkie. Whoever set this whole thing up definitely knows what her least favorite word is. They were mocking her, and they were trying to use Forkie to make her upset. She clenched a fist, steeling her nerves. She let out a defeated sigh, and under her breath mumbled out a sad  _ “Fuck.” _

Her eyes darted about the room.

“Nothing happened...” She said out loud. “I said it for nothing, and now I’m sad!” She put her hands on her hips, raising her head with a clearly visible furrow in her brow.

She seemed to have spoken a moment too soon. “The wall is changing.”

Andy grunted and covered his mechanical eye, trying to protect himself from the strain of watching the strange text fall off the wall, and dissolve into a rainbow dust before disappearing into nothing. He adjusted his patch over the implant once more, not even wanting to deal with the visual acid trip. Within seconds of this the floor shook, the wall in question broke away from the ceiling, and dropped through the floor, as if there were a perfect trap door beneath it, revealing another doorway.

Chastity came up and slung an arm around the shoulders of the vexed young woman, “Welcome to the ‘Fuck Club,’ Kitten!”

“Please, don’t touch me.” The girl did her best not to hiss at the escort. “This is not worth congratulating. My mother would be terribly ashamed.”

“Well, your mother isn’t here,” Andy grabbed a shoulder of each woman, prying them apart, and ushering them forward to the new opening. “And she’ll never have to know.” He had intervened to keep things moving, and not at all from a rising sickness he had felt in his stomach at the girl being further troubled. That would be ridiculous.

Son and the rest of the party followed them to the door. “We’re gonna teach you how to fuckin’ curse properly by the end of this trip!” The giant said with a grin.

“The only proper way is to not do it!” Jameson was going to further berate her companion, but Forkie had once more latched onto her arm.

“Jamie, I’m sorry! I don’t think any of us expected any of this!”

“You know what, Forkie? It’s unbecoming for someone of my status to ever be so vulgar.”  _ and it’s all your fault that I had to be here and say that anyway. _ The young lady Grant closed her eyes, willing herself not to snap at the poor boy as she wrenched herself away from him and away from Andy. “But I don’t care that much. It’s fine. It’s keeping us moving.”

The room the group found themselves in this time was eerily similar to the first. The walls were that same blinding white color, but this time there was a clear exit on the opposite side of the room, granted it was closed. It was still a perfectly normal, clearly untampered with exit. Before this door, in the dead center of the room was a table, and on that a large, perfect square pyramid of glass were bottles of Maker’s Mark Bourbon, cartoonishly illuminated in a heavenly manner by a skylight in the ceiling, hundreds of feet in the air.

It was a race to see who could get to the substance first - the raging alcoholic in the room, and the only person physically strong and fast enough to catch, and hold her crazed state back. Though Chastity had dashed forward first, Son Hattori had the advantage of reach on his side, barely managing to grab the woman by the arm, before locking her into a full nelson. “God damn it, Chastity! This is clearly a trap!”

“B-Blue Balls! C’mon!” The escort attempted to wiggle in his iron grip. “It’s just that good shit! Lemme get that good shit!”

“It’s probably poisoned!”

“What isn’t poisoned these days?!”

“I would prefer that you don’t die!”

“That’s very generous of you, Blue Balls, but ya girl wants to get crunk!”

While the two of them had a screaming match about the pros and cons of this obvious trap, the more...  _ detail oriented _ party members walked around the table and gave it a once over. Jameson and Phoenix kept a wide berth around the table, fearing that even breathing on the bottles would set off some sort of personally tailored trap. The girl also seemed distracted, continuing to think about how upset her parents would be from the crack she just made in their noble air. She couldn’t help but be slightly peeved that the last room had caused her great personal shame, while this room was seemingly giving the call girl everything she had ever wanted. Even still, the two just felt like they were staring at a display of ordinary bourbon. The arsonist and the heiress shared a wary look at each other. Andy had once more flipped over his patch, and also found similar results, though his cyber-eye seemed to be a kind of haze surrounding the bottles, and even the top and the legs of the table. He wouldn’t be able to relay this observation in time.

Midway through their argument on assets and liabilities that her getting absolutely smashed by this bourbon would cause, Chastity had relaxed her muscles, easing herself into a position where she had quite a bit of wiggle room. When she realized that the desert giant hadn’t noticed the space, she rushed herself forward with a sudden burst of athleticism that she did not know she was capable of. Son attempted to give chase, but only managed to snag the back of her dress, and by that time she was at the table. The only thing grabbing her at this point did was slam her into the table harder, knocking bottles of bourbon everywhere, shattering many of them on the floor.

With Son letting out a “Fuck,” of his own, the room went dark, only to be reilluminated by a strobing red light, and the sound of sirens blarring. Between flashes he could see Chastity was already knocking back about half a bottle that hadn’t fallen in their skirmish, but he, and everyone else could see from the far wall, where the exit had been waiting for them with open arms, the floor beginning to giveaway in large chunks. There was already a ten foot gap, at least between the door, and where the ground remained.

“We can’t get to the exit. We’re going to fall.” The girl in blue said to no one in particular.

“Don’t be so fatalistic. There’s been a solution to each room before this - so this one has to have something.” Son released Chastity so she could fully enjoy what was possibly her last drink.

“Mister Hattori, I am a known optimist. I don’t see how we’re getting out of this.” This room’s solution was clearly to keep the drunk escort away from The Maker’s Mark - a test of will. And this seemed to be their punishment for failure. “I can’t make the jump to the door anymore. In fact, I think you’re the only one here who could.”

Son shrugged, as usual being heroically, and unnecessarily self-sacrificing. “It’s not worth jumping if I’m the only person who can.”

Phoenix got closer to the table, now that touching it wouldn’t make a whole lot of difference in their situation. “Is there anything else here that can get us out of this?” He looked down, but all he saw was broken glass. What a waste of perfectly good bourbon. In the olden days you could pour it on gunpowder and it would ignite really nicely...

“There was this haze around the table earlier. I was going to point it out but our drunk friend here made her mad dash before I could.” Andy finally found the time to say what he wanted to, but now he had something new to look at between the strobing red glow. “It’s still there, but it looks more solid.”

“Like the forcefield from the first room?” Jameson inquired.

“Exactly. It’s going all around the table.” Andy told her. Son reached out to it, showing the entire group that it was solid when he made contact.

Chastity snorted. “Wanna hop on and ride it down?” She had meant it as a joke. “Just like the old days, at like... theme parks and shit.”

“Actually, yeah. I’m getting on the fuckin’ table.” Son stepped up onto the wood, and let out a laugh that one could describe as nervous. “Haha... This is a bad idea.”

“Oh good God... Okay, everyone get on the table.” Jameson huffed, rubbing her face just to be sure this wasn’t all a terribly messed up dream. It wasn’t. “I hate my life...”

As The General commanded, anyone who hadn’t already clambered onto the table did so. It was packed tightly. Son kept a tight grip on Chastity, who was already showing more signs of intoxication, just to be sure she didn’t flop over the side. Most of the others seemed to be able to fend for themselves. They watched with bated breath as more and more of the ground fell away into nothingness. Soon, the very slab of stone holding them aloft followed suit. They hung in the air for a moment, no one even daring to breathe. Their miraculous flight ended all too soon. They stayed aloft about as well as a brick would have, plummeting away from the red light, and into perfect, unending darkness. The more cognisant wondered, through their long descent, if they were actually dead - the air rushing around them being the best counter evidence to that thought. 

The tallest of them managed to look below them, and there he saw a faint light, slowly growing larger, and much more visible. They were nearing the bottom. It was coming quickly. They were going to hit the ground. “Brace! Brace! Brace!” Son barked.

Jameson wrapped her normal arm underneath Forkie’s shoulders, knowing she physically, and him mentally, would be shocked heavily by the landing they were about to make. In a split second decision, she threw herself and her friend off the table. Those who remained on when contact was made with the ground were thrown about the room, slammed into the floors and walls, but very much alive - if terribly sore. It was hardly a pleasing experience. The young lady Grant balanced upside down a few feet from the perfectly undamaged table upon her metal hand, Forkie clinging to her torso, helpfully holding the girl’s tiara to her head. With her toes pointed, she let her feet fall to the ground, and stood herself and the boy upright.

Andy, with a pained groan looked up in tandem with Son. They both saw that the table didn’t even have a dent in it. “Why does God hate us?” He asked himself.

  
  


Shaking off the whiplash as quickly as their bodies would allow, they looked around. The new room the party found themselves in was cavernous to say the least. But surprisingly lit from a series of cracks and fissures along the walls. The cracks in the rocks, and the light with them convened at an open archway, leading into yet another space. Son thought it odd that despite going deeper underground, there was light in the first place.

“Oh... OH! This is it!” Little Forked yelled. “This is where I usually end up! Right in front of this entrance!”

“Before we go in... Where does this door go?” Phoenix asked.

“To the room with the exit!” The goblin man exclaimed.

Chastity was on her knees sobbing. Cradled in her arms was one last glass bottle, several cracks spreading through it, the liquid inside beginning to ooze as it shattered. The greatest insult of all? This was the only bottle that made the fall with them, and it was just a cream soda. She was fucking heartbroken. Her agony was only further illuminated by Phoenix pulling out a lighter to find his way to the door to the next room. The men began to follow him.

Jameson came to Chastity’s side, and took a knee. “We need to keep moving, Miss Chastity.”

“H-how?!” The call girl hiccuped, burying her face into the other woman’s frock coat. “How can I go on without more booze?!”

“There there... I packed some scotch for you before we left.” The mercenary offered her head a comforting pat, highly uncomfortable herself. “How about I buy you some more bourbon once we’re top side? Higher class stuff, huh?”

“Re-really?” Chastity allowed Jameson to help her stand, invigorated by the promise of top shelf liquor.

The young lady began ushering her to the door where Little Fork was waiting for his friend. Phoenix also remained at the threshold, appearing to give Forkie a once over. “If it gets you out of this room and into the next one, sure.” 

Forkie moved to trail behind Jameson, but was cut off by Phoenix who grabbed him by the collar. The man in black glared daggers at the gremlin boy. “How long were you going to wait before you told her? Before you told any us?” Forkie could only sputter nonsense back. The arsonist continued to press with strong words, but lacking an accusatory tone. “You’re putting everyone here in danger, you know that, right?”

Forkie finally managed a shrill, “J-JAMIE!”

The girl whirled away from Chastity, immediately marching her way back towards the two men. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him!” Not that anyone could see it, but a revolver had dropped from up the girl’s sleeve, and into her hand. Being rough is not how one should handle a patient.

“He’s infected, Miss Grant.” Phoenix said, not even bothering to turn to face the girl. He tore at the collar of the gremlin’s shirt, tearing it away from him entirely, unaware that the young lady was currently raising a gun to his head. She lowered it in complete shock as she got a look at Forkie.

Chastity, in her moderately tipsy stupor blinked a few times at this spectacle.  _ Shit dawg, we’re really doing this right now. _

“I-It’s not... quite like that..! L-Listen...” Blushing furiously, Little Fork made a vague attempt to cover his torso, but the state of his body was clear to the room. Essentially, from the chest down he was composed of bio-mechanics - he was eighty percent bio-implant! That kind of alteration would have to be powered by an external source, which explained the powercore lodged in his abdomen. “A long time ago, there was an explosion...” He began, hardly a hint of a stammer in his speech. “I was very... very little, and I barely survived. I was picked up by a man... I... I don’t quite remember who he is, unfortunately. But he saved me.” On his shoulder sat a horrific, festering bite mark. “I-I mean... My infection isn’t... it’s not bad.”

Son raised an eyebrow, “Well it’s not good either.”

“I-It... my mother bit me. It’s okay though! I was gonna take care of it!” He reasoned. 

Jameson’s gun went back up her sleeve. “This is what my brother has been treating you for?” Forkie nodded. “And your progress..?”

“There hasn’t been much significant progress! Henrik has halted it... I think.”

“Halted, or just slowed?” The young lady continued to pry.

Forkie looked down at his feet. “Slowed...”

“Forkie, be honest.” She crossed her arms. “Are we going to New Pepper City to find a cure for your mother, or for you?”

He didn’t dare look up at her. “ _ Mother _ ... has been taken care of.”

“When?” Jameson used her dead eyes to her advantage, trying to not betray any shock or emotion. He couldn’t have done it himself... right?

“... Recently.” Still he kept his head poised at his feet. “It... It was too much. We couldn’t keep her in the city without someone knowing, and well... We should focus on getting you all out.” 

The young lady Grant pushed Phoenix out of the way. “What are you going to do once we get to New Pepper City?”

“Henrik... He had a plan to hide me until this all blows over.” 

She sighed. “Was he sober when he came up with this one?”

“I mean... you can’t really get him to be... you know? But he’s- I’m willing to take the risks if he thinks it’s right. If... If you find the cure we...” He suddenly sniffled. “I-It’s not fair... Hundreds- hundreds of people in First are infected, not just me! They’re all hiding... Someone... Someone has to help them! Even if they don’t want to admit it, if we don’t do something about the infection...” He stepped forward, moving past Jameson, before face palming. “The exit should be on the other side of this room, but... The Emergency - God damn it... There’s a button around here somewhere!”

The group spread out and began looking for whatever non-specific button they needed. This room, much like the one they fell into, was a cavernous dome, however this one was slightly more “furnished.” There were pillars about the room, holding up the ceiling akin to an ancient temple, alongside wall to wall coverage of computers, and displays, and electronics. An achromatic laboratory-shrine combo. In the center of the room, devoid of any other object lay a mural on the floor, tiles cut masterfully in the image of a grizzly bear attempting to swallow a flame. Forkie was bouncing around the room, searching for the right button, and avoiding Jameson and the mural.

“I’ve got a lot to discuss with my brother when I get home.” Giving up on further questioning, Jamie decided to study the room. “... If I get home...”

Chastity came up next to her, her head angled straight up in front of a pillar. “There are bears on top of these.”

“Yes,” Jameson agreed. “And they resemble that maniac from earlier today.”

Chastity’s face scrunched up. “What maniac?”

“That bear headed man at Denny’s- You signed a contract of some sort with him!” Did she really not remember?

“Bruh-” Chastity looked shocked. “We went to Denny’s?!”

“Yes.” Jameson squeezed her eyes shut, beyond exasperated. “Yes, we went to Denny’s, and I left my bike there, and they destroyed it, I said the F word, my friend is infected, and my life is falling apart.”

“Join the club.” Andy quipped from across the room.

“Oh honey~!” Chastity pinched Jamie’s cheeks. “Your life isn’t even close to falling apart yet.” She straightened the girl’s tiara and then walked over to a panel of buttons.

Jameson looked blankly ahead, then looked up to study the statue further.

“Boxy, this is so sad.” Al whispered to the droid perched on his shoulder. “Play Despacito.” 

“Despacito~!” Boxy, having been designed and created after the fall, had no idea what that was, and ended up playing a very grating tune called  _ ‘Baby _ ,’ It was not enjoyable for anyone, except for Chastity who was straight the fuck jammin’ out, and he quickly ceased this. While he was trying to pretend he didn’t just cause that ear-drum splitting mess, Al happened to find a stick on the ground, which he picked up.

Chastity, in the midst of her one woman rave, managed to, by pure luck, smack one of the buttons that lit up the room fully, causing the lights from the cracks in the wall to intensify. The buttons seemed to lack a purpose outside of that - it was a panel dedicated to mood lighting.

Phoenix crept up to Jameson. “Sorry about Forkie.”

The girl grunted, not at all in the mood for this conversation. “You’re an arsonist, yeah?”

“That’s how some people describe me.”

“That bowl in the bear’s hands,” All the bear statues atop the pillars were each holding a copper bowl, “Is that tarnishing, or soot?”

Phoenix squinted. “... Soot.”

For a third time in such a short span, Andy exposed his other eye, and used it in an attempt to track the electrical current in the room, trying to see if they could override whatever was keeping the door shut. Much to his dismay, most of the circuit was near the escort’s panel, meaning if he wanted _ something _ to happen he was going to need to be near the woman. He bit the bullet and approached the electronics, his eye directing him to one that gave off a faint red glow. A suspicious, big, red button. He hesitantly reached out, pushing it down, unsure of what else he could do. He drew his hand back, hissing in pain. The button had shocked him when he pushed it downwards, however, much of the machinery and computers in the room roared to life. 

The screens lit up suddenly, all of them beginning to play the same recording. The best guess was that it was some kind of lab video diary, but with how distorted the footage was, if it was something else, no one could tell. Aside from the audio constantly cutting out, there were massive tearings in the footage. Two sets of what looked like claw marks tore across the speakers face and chest. The ‘scientist’ mostly spoke in grumbles and growls, not at all helping the already garbled audio. “Amount to something...experiment - failure... Ailments uncured! ... Only, hi- relocate- being relocated... better equipment... Change the world.” The transmission, or whatever was playing the recording cut suddenly cut out, leaving the room in a confused silence.

“What do you think would happen if we lit a flame in the bowl?” Jameson asked Phoenix, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.

“I’d love to find out, but they’re a good thirty, maybe forty feet in the air.” Phoenix rocked back on his heels.

Son laughed at the quitter talk. “I can get you up there!”

“How..?”

“I’ll throw you!” The giant gave them a thumbs up. The offer was terrifying. They knew he could do it. They saw him panic karate chop a grown woman across an entire room while holding several tons of rock mere minutes earlier - there was no questioning what he could do in a controlled environment. 

Phoenix gave no outward objection when Son grabbed him by the shoulder - he thought it was an encouraging gesture of some sort. It wasn’t until Son counted down from three that he gave a sudden flail upon realization “Wh-wait-!” His jarring movement offset Son’s trajectory, causing him to hurl the goth man like a javelin directly into the wall about ten feet up. He peeled off the stone with a groan, and landed with an unpleasant thud on the ground. “... Ow.”

“Oof, my bad.”

Jamie cringed. “Should we try throwing someone smaller?”

Andy looked over at her like she was insane. “You’re the only person here smaller than the emo kid.”

She cringed again as she realized he was correct. Phoenix had dragged himself over, tugging at the hem of her coat for her attention. He held up a lighter for her to take. She did just to be polite, tucking it safely into her pocket. “Throw me vertically, not horizontally, Blue.”

Son rolled his eyes. “It was an honest mistake.” He was aware that the young lady would expect him to try a more careful approach with her, especially considering her delicate health. He elected to take a knee and clasp his hands together. She put a foot on his interlocked fingers, and a hand on top of his knit cap for balance. “Ready, General?”

“As I’ll ever be...” She grumbled. With a hearty  **“ORA!”** She was sent airborne, thankfully running parallel to the pillar like she had asked. She hooked her metal arm around the outstretched stone of the bear, pushing her feet against the pillar so she wouldn’t slam into it, and taking the physical strain off of her body. She dug around for the lighter in her pocket, finding it amongst the bullets and coins. At first she held the flame underneath the bowl, where a large portion of the scorch marks appeared to be. This resulted in a considerable amount of smoke pouring from the top side of the bowl and the metal glowing red, but little else. Unhappy with these results, she tilted the lighter to the interior portion of the bowl. A flame ignited in the center of the bowl as the lighter passed the lip, threatening to singe her if not for her wool sleeve. She drew her arm back, and watched as light poured across the statue, wrapping around it like a glowing vine, down the pillar, and flowed to the mural in the middle of the room. “Blue, I’m going to jump. If you don’t think I’ll land on the correct arm, please catch me!”

Son turned to Phoenix on the floor. “She’s very quiet, what did she say?”

“I think she said, ‘Catch me.’”

She was going to time her jump better, give a signal before she let go and all that, but without her realizing it, something forced her arm off of the statue, and she was plummeting to the ground. She released the lighter in surprise, stunned by the strangeness of this predicament. Thankfully, the desert giant was already preparing to have to catch her, and he did. Unfortunately, in her fear, the young lady’s hand clenched into a fist, which struck Son in the chest as he caught her, and her full weight plus the effect of gravity. In other words, she clocked his man-titty by accident. “Oh dear, my apologies, Mister Hattori!”

He carefully placed her on the ground, glad she was safe, but he turned away to allow himself a moment to wheeze in pain. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve felt today...”

Meanwhile, the lighter, still flaming, skittered across the floor, and onto the decorative flame of the mural, setting off a chain reaction and lighting all of the pillars in the room to match the manually lit one. With this the remaining machinery in the room sprang to life, but the door they came through slammed behind them. A robotic voice rang out around them, “CLEANING PROCESS. SCANNING.” A more artificial light began to hover about the room, appearing to scan the individuals present, bathing them in a blue light, until it reached the end of the room where Forkie stood, wide eyed. The light blinked red, and the pillar flames, as well as the light coming from them shifted to green, shifting the room to a sickly glow. “SUBJECT FOUND. BEGINNING RESTORATION PROCESS.”

Son grabbed Jameson as she moved to rush forward. “Let go! It might kill him!”

Andy stepped in front of her in case Son failed, “It might kill you too.”

Another light appeared from the ceiling, zipping to the boy faster than anyone could process. Once he was caught in it’s rays, it lifted him into the air. He let out a screech in agonizing pain. The light pulsed, and with each passing blip of energy, Forkie’s flesh appeared to ripple with it. “NO! NO! NA-ACK-” His screams were cut off by more energy. His visible flesh wasn’t the only thing moving by that point. The state of matter and viscosity of his implants seemed to changed and yield to the wave like movement. The mechanics of his body sparked, appearing to short circuit underneath the strain. The group watched in horror as his skull seemed to stretch beneath his skin, before an explosion centering on him rocked the cavern, forcing everyone to look away and shield themselves.

When they were finally able to look again, they were met with a horrendous, writhing mass of hands, feet, and tentacles, all of which were covered with wide, bloodshot eyes, and mouths with teeth crammed in any where they could fit, all of which were screaming in pained unison.

_ “Fuck,” _ Thought Son, ” _ I didn’t think I was in this kind of anime...” _

Tentacles may not have been the right word, though it seemed apt if one wasn’t seeing this RV sized hell beast up close. It was more like hands growing out of hands, growing out of legs, growing out of hands, until it did appear to be a tendril more than anything else. The eldritch horror was large enough to obscure the exit from view.

Alphonse tucked Boxy into his pocket for safety, quietly murmuring that he wanted to go home. Chastity took one solid look at the abomination that was once Forkie, and slowly backed away. She dealt with a lot of limp and wet things at work - but this whole situation was WAY out of her comprehension. The mechanical voice from before began blaring over Forkie, “ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.” Stuck on an endless loop.

“Jesus Christ...” Jameson sucked in some air, and put on her blank mercenary stare. First order of business, attempt peaceful resolution. “Okay. No one draw a weapon - we need to try calming him down first - at least so he stops screaming.” 

“I really don’t think that’s the main issue here.” Andy objected incredulously. Blue-Bloods were fucking crazy.

Son found enough humor in the situation to laugh, “Yeah Forkie, shut up so we can think.”

“Sure, you two try thinking while I try talking to him.” Ever dignified, she held her tongue and kept herself from saying ‘try thinking for once,’ instead. The girl strong armed her way out of Son’s grip, taking tentative steps towards the writhing mass. “Forkie..?” She called gently, leveling her breathing.

Upon hearing her soft voice, all the hundreds of mouths closed, and the screaming ceased. The writhing limbs slumped into stillness, and the thousands of eyes stared upon Jameson Grant.  **_“Jay...me...”_ ** Somewhere in the mass, a voice answered.

She nodded, grateful for an answer, grateful for the stillness. “Yes, I’m right here. It’s alright, Forkie... Just... settle down. We’ll fix this.”

**_“Jamie... JAMIE..!”_ ** A tentacle composed of arms suddenly surged toward the girl. She had the senses necessary to dodge the strike, but was knocked into a pillar by debris from the tendril slamming into the ground where she had been standing previously.  **_“JAMIE DOESN’T TRUST FORKIE. JAMIE DIES!”_ ** A second strike at the pillar she was leaning on sent her sprawling into the bear mural in the center of the floor, out in the open for another strike.

“Thinking times over, we’re killing him!” Son leapt into the fray, drawing his first of three blades and lopping off half of the tentacle about to crush Jameson. The young woman sat up, sufficiently guarded by the blue man. 

The two watched, bewildered, as the freshly cut portion dissolved to dust, but the remaining mass grew back even lengthier than before, all the while, the many mouths reopened, screaming,  **_“PAIN. PAIN. PAIN.”_ ** the sound over taking the ERROR alarm. The group was tragically on the same page - their two options were kill Forkie, or die.

Jameson let a pistol drop into her left hand as she wobbled to her feet. Second order of business, if peace is not possible, defend yourself. “It’s like a bastardized hydra.” She observed, seeing the new limb flailing indiscriminately for something to hit.

“Great!” Phoenix exclaimed with a wide grin, drawing a fully lit torch from... somewhere? “If you cut it off, I’ll burn it so it doesn’t grow back.” Jameson had never been so terrified to have another person understand a literary reference.

“Fuck yeah!” Son was always happy to have some wanton violence. “Get over here Phoenix, lets kick his ass!” The giant sprang into action, the man in black in tow, hacking off another tendril. The smaller man attempted to cauterize it, but was slapped aside by another limb, allowing the mass to grow back. It became quite clear that this was going to be more difficult than previously anticipated.

The young lady Grant let out an annoyed sigh, adjusting her tiara so her other arm would cooperate for the next few minutes. “One of you back there, look for an exit while we distract this... thing.” She ordered the group members keeping a safe distance from this scuffle.

Realizing this abomination against nature might take a bit of extra muscle, Andy drew his weapon of choice, _ The Disco Stick _ , and also gave the creature a scan with his mechanical eye for a weakness. Much to his disgust, but probably for the best, he saw something interesting. The central mass, from which all the writhing limbs had originated was composed of alternating layers of biomass, then razor-like teeth, but in the middle of it all was the battery core once in Forkie’s abdomen. It was still powering his body, even now.

“I-I see a door!” Chastity slurred, spotting light on the far end of the room - the monster’s growth seemingly forcing the door open, “But it’s behind Swamp-ass over there!” So the only way out would be through Forkie. The room fired back with a group of exasperated groans. This place sucked.

“I’ve got an eye on a weak spot, I think.” Andy said approaching the group currently duking it out with John Carpenters,  _ The Thing _ , “This things’ made of layers of body parts and razor teeth, but in the middle is that battery thing, and from the looks of it, it’s keeping the poor bastard alive.”

“So, if we destroy that, we’ll be out of this mess.” Jameson answered, sounding monotone and distant.

“Worth a shot, I guess.”

“Mister Hattori, tear each layer apart, I’m going to need a clear shot.” The General ordered, spinning the revolver barrel, and cocking the gun to boot. “Mister Caslin, do give him a hand.”

Meanwhile, Phoenix limped over to Al and Chastity. “Do you want a penny?” He asked the mechanic.

“S-sure..?” Al accepted the kind offer, albeit random offer, watching hesitantly as the arsonist returned to the fray.

“I’ve got a balloon.” The escort told him.

“That’s neat.”

“Do you want it?” She reached down the front of her dress to grab it.

“I mean if you don’t...” He really didn’t know what else to do.

Phoenix made his way to the battle as Son and Andy were whipped backwards by another writhing appendage. Son had made a fantastic chop, exposing the teeth like layer Andy had mentioned, but they had found when the one eyed man tried to strike with his electrified sword, that these revolving shards of enamel spun like gears, bouncing it away - not that burning it would result in anything different. Can you even set teeth on fire? And since he wasn’t back in time to burn the wound open, it sealed itself back up. The two let out their individually frustrated, ‘FUCK,’s and prepared for a second round.

Jameson visibly scowled in frustration. What a wretched day it was. “Mister Clements? You’re a mechanic by trade, correct?”

“Y-yes ma’am!?” The man in the cap snapped to attention at the young lady’s dark tone.

“We need something that can create a jam in a series of gears. Do you have the materials necessary to craft something like that?” She kept her eyes trained on the main threat.

“I-I’ll see what I can throw together!” His mind began racing with the possible combinations of items he had at his disposal, fresh in his mind, however, were, _ stick, penny, balloon. _ The combat group focused on providing cover against the lashing tentacles so Phoenix could retrieve his torch. Chastity watched all this, considering there was a good possibility she was tripping on whatever was in that one Maker’s Mark she managed to chug. After a chaotic moment, Al triumphantly raised his masterpiece, sprinting to the fight.

Jameson looked at it with completely dead eyes, her adrenaline taking over. “It looks like you glued a penny to a stick, and then slapped a latex balloon over it.” Shouting didn’t seem like the most productive thing she could do in response to this - not that she could do that anyway, but she couldn’t help but feel like if she were able, it would be an appropriate response to what she was seeing.

“No, check this out!” Al tapped the stick on the ground, and the contact was marked by a tremendous metallic clang, as though God himself dropped an anvil from heaven. “I call it, the _ MacGyver Stick. _ ”

Son gave the stick a sideways glance. “That feels like it violates every known law of physics, but if it gets us out of this...”

Jameson gave a curt nod in approval. “When they open up the teeth layer again, jam that into the gears.”

Al wasn’t even given the time to let out an unsure ‘um,’ in response. The three other men launched another assault. Like before, Son and Andy were successful in lopping off yet another meat chunk from Forkie, and as an added bonus Phoenix burnt the wound to hell and back, leaving it open permanently. The mechanic was never given the chance to join the attack, another tentacle swung, the horrendous mass spasming in pain that it could not heal, forcing the other men to dodge back, but the tip of this one appeared to have a barb on it, hurling itself in Al’s direction. Jameson shoved him out of the way, the barb striking the outside of her coat. It didn’t appear to tear the wool surface, but she swallowed a wince as she felt a gash somehow open on her hip.

The beast twitched about madly, in a complete frenzy of agony, throwing its appendages any way possible. Chastity had the wherewithal to duck behind some lab equipment, avoiding the whole debacle, but the rest of the group was left to fend for themselves. Andy and Phoenix had back peddled at light speed, narrowly missing a series of tentacles, but the remaining three lacked their luck and speed, getting whacked, and sailing through the air like ragdolls. In retaliation, Andy grabbed the stick from where Al dropped it upon getting molly-whopped by the hentai monster, once more warp-speeding forward, stabbing the miracle stick into the abomination with all the strength he had. The gears attempted to continue grinding, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. This resulted in the gears imploding on themselves, exposing the battery orbiting within some kind of liquid core.

Jameson regained her bearings quickly, thanks to the sheer volume of adrenaline moving through her veins. “Can I get a bullet through there?”

Andy once more drew the Disco Stick, carving it through the surface before being shoved away by another tentacle. “Looks like- oh fuck!” The cut was made with ease, however, all points of contact was hardening, as though it was freezing over instantaneously.

The young woman powered through the taste of blood in her mouth. She needed to do this now, or everyone here would die. Without a second to lose, she aimed down the iron sights of her beloved Lancer Revolver, closing her nondominant eye, and she pulled the trigger.

The bullet sailed through the air, grazing the growing hardened edge of the core, and slicing through the liquid. The core did not explode on contact with the bullet, but was pushed out of it’s delicate orbit. It brushed lightly against its own outcore’s hardening matter.

And then it blew up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will our motley crew make it to new pepper city safely? Will they have to fight people like forkie again? Find out next time on FATE CORE


End file.
